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— Page 121 


I 


FA'rHKK, KA'rilKK ! THE MINISTER IS HERE.” 





//737,C' 


OLD TIMES. 



BY 


Miss MARY DWINELL CHELLIS, 


Author of “The Temperance Doctor,’' “Out of the Fire” 
“Aunt Dinah's Fledge” “At Lion's Mouth,” etc. 


Old times. Old times. The brave, old time 
Of stalwart men, and women strong; 

When God’s free gifts of corn and wine 
Were welcomed, both, with shout and song. 

Roll back the curtain. Let us see 
If all were true, when all were free; 

If when no warning voice was heard, 

No hearts with grief and anguish stiri 



NEW YORK: 

National Temperance Society and Publication House, 
No. 58 READE STREET. 


1873- 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
J. N. STEARNS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. 


Stereotyped by Alfred Martien, Philadelphia. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. PAGB 

Fifty Yeaes Ago 5 

CHAPTER IL 

Little Leaveit 26 

CHAPTER III. 

The First Temperance Sermon 54 

CHAPTER IV. 

Conference of Deacons 73 

CHAPTER V. 

Deacon Campbell’s Conversion 91 

CHAPTER VI. 

A Temperance Meeting 105 

CHAPTER VII. 

A Visitation 118 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Leaven Working 137 

CHAPTER IX. 

An Investigation Demanded 153 


4 


CO>JTENTS, 


CHAPTER X. PAGE 

A Cold Water Husking 168 

• CHAPTER XI. 

A Report of Rum’s Doings 185 

CHAPTER XII. 

Uncle Lem 207 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Schoolmaster’s “Lectur.” 222 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Lumbering 241 

CHAPTER XV. 

A Cold Water Raising 257 

CHAPTER XVI. 

An Unexpected Guest 276 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Secret Revealed 289 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Deliverance 303 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The First Fruits 317 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Grand Results 335 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER I. 

FIFTY YEARS AGO. 

ON’T look for Hardback” on any 
map; for years ago its inhabitants 
were permitted to designate their 
town by a more euphonious name, 
and now it is seldom seen except in old 
records, embellished with quaint flourishes. 
Yet a few aged men and women, living 
more in the past than the present, still talk 
of Hardback as it was when they were 
young ; lingering over the name as that 
of a friend. 

Beautiful for situation was it considered at 
the time of its settlement, and beautiful is it 
now considered* by all who stand upon its 

5 



6 


OLD TIMES. 


lofty hills, or track its winding streams. Over- 
looking the surrounding country, the sun’s 
first rays illumine its heights, until they stand 
in clear, bold outline, waiting for the glory 
of eventide. So sure as day gives place to 
night, and the storm-king holds not sway, 
the gazer shall see, above them it may be, yet 
so near that they catch the reflected colors — • 
clouds, rainbow tinted, or bronzed with gold 
of deepest dye. A grandeur and a glory too 
there is, when all the glow of color disappear- 
ing, heavy masses of vapor are swept by 
the eddying wind ; now concealing and now 
revealing bare peak and wooded hill. 

More than a century has elapsed since 
the first log house was built in this old 
town and the first farm located. Two bro- 
thers, George and William Ransom, claimed 
the honor of leading the new settlement ; 
although one of their neighbors, two miles 
distant, insisted that he had felled a large 
tree before they had made a chip. However 
this may be, it is true that they with their 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


7 


descendants were always first in every good 
word and work. 

They, with their wives and a few other God- 
fearing men and women, formed the members 
of a church which has since numbered among 
its members many who consecrated noble 
talents to the service of religion. Officiating 
as deacons, until their hands, palsied with 
age, could no longer bear the sacred emblems 
which commemorate our Saviour’s death, 
these brothers were still wise in counsel, 
when others had assumed the active duties 
of their office. Good, true men they were, 
according to the light given them ; going 
home to their reward, after lives of more than 
fourscore years. 

Nearly threescore of these years they had 
spent in Hardback, and during that time 
marvellous changes had taken place. The one 
small house which afforded ample accommo- 
dations for four, became too strait, as girls and 
boys clustered around their parents ; and in 
process of time two large frame houses were 


8 


OLD TIMES. 


built. Boys grew to be strong, stalwart men, 
and girls stepped within the pale of woman- 
hood. Forests had disappeared, giving place 
on the uplands to extensive orchards, and 
in the valleys, to broad fields of waving grain. 

The little band of Christians which cove- 
nanted together in the early days had received 
numerous accessions, until it was the strong- 
est church in that part of the State. Its 
pastors had been faithful preachers of the 
Word which is profitable for reproof and in- 
struction. They visited the families of their 
parish, prayed with all, and drank to their 
good health. 

The choicest liquor the house afforded, and 
no house but afforded some, was brought 
forward for the minister, who was nothing 
loth to test its qualities. Many a sharp dis- 
cussion was held, and many a knotty point 
in theology settled . over a glass of old wine 
or cherry-bounce. Pastor and people, men 
and women, all considered alcoholic drinks 
among the necessaries of life ; and the health, 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


9 


sobriety, and good order of communities, 
under the old regime, are often quoted to 
prove that moderation is the true policy. 

Drunkenness was then rarely known,” say‘ 
those who delight in referring to the past 
as a golden age. “ Our grandfathers and 
grandmothers were good enough, and they 
drank as they pleased. Show us men and 
women who can accomplish what they did, 
when twenty barrels of cider were arranged 
against the cellar walls, with smaller casks 
of liquors to fill up the chinks. Prohibition 
was not dreamed of Each man attended to 
his own business, and no one thought to 
question another’s right to eat and drink 
such things as seemed to him good.” 

Heard for the first time, these assertions 
and demands sound somewhat like arguments. 
But it would be well to consider whether the 
premises are actually true, before accepting 
the conclusions, which those who advance 
them claim as logical. If our ancestors per- 
formed more of good, honest labor, both 


10 


OLD TIMES. 


mental and physical, than an equal number of 
the present generation, in similar walks of 
life, and this superior energy is due to the 
moderate use of stimulants, there is some 
pertinence to the remarks I have quoted. 

It cannot be that in the agitation of the 
great question of temperance, upon which, 
next to religion, depends the future of our 
country, any thing so strongly bearing upon it 
should have been overlooked. The past has 
been fairly judged, in the light of knowledge, 
to which each day’s experience adds. The 
profoundest thinkers and wisest philosophers 
assert that the old days were not better than 
are the new. 

But to return to my story, which, as a 
record of facts, has a claim to consideration. 
In Hardback, fifty years ago, people could sit 
in the square pews o^ the meeting-house on 
the hill, every Sabbath from January to De- 
cember, with no fear of hearing a temperance 
sermon. Preachers were mighty in the doc- 
trines; quick to perceive any laxness on the 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


11 


part of those whose spiritual teachers they 
were, and prompt to meet the exigency. 

Perhaps doctrine was most needed ; but it is 
a well attested fact, that the Rev. Thomas 
Gibson found it necessary to visit one of his 
deacons, and remonstrate with him in regard 
to certain practices which were bringing re- 
proach upon the church. 

Deacon Cragin was a passionate man; quick 
tempered his neighbors called him; and woe 
be to the child or animal which crossed his 
path when his temper was aroused. He 
was noted for abusing his cattle, beating his 
horses, and dealing heavy blows in his 
family. 

Mr. Gibson had not long been his pastor 
when this state of things became apparent to 
the new minister, and after a meeting for 
prayer, in which the Deacon bewailed the 
low state of religion in their midst, the time 
seemed propitious for speaking with frank- 
ness. 

Abundant crops had been harvested. Barns 


12 


OLD TIMES. 


and granaries were full. Apples filled their 
usual receptacles to overflowing, while with 
many a creak and groan the heavy beam 
swung round in the cider-mill owned by 
Deacon Cragin. Other mills in town were 
closed, but here work remained to be done, 
and Mr. Gibson paused by the open door. An 
accident had just occurred, and the Deacon 
was enraged. His boys made haste to get 
beyond his reach, but his horse, poor creature, 
could not escape. 

“Father! father! the minister is here,’’ 
called his eldest son. But the words were 
not heard, and a firm hand grasped the arm 
of the angry man before the visitor was ob- 
served. 

“ A merciful man is merciful to his beast.’^ 

The whip was allowed to fall, and, with 
well-feigned cordiality, an invitation was given 
to “go over to the house.” 

“That is what I intended to do,” replied 
Mr. Gibson, gravely. “I came to talk over 
the interests of the church with you, and 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


13 


hoped to find you at leisure. I see that 
you are busy.” 

“ Not so busy but what I can stop,” said 
the Deacon. I’ve had bad luck, just as I 
got most through grinding; and I’ll leave the 
boys to mend up, if they can.” 

Some directions were given, and then minis- 
ter and Deacon started for the farm-house at 
the foot of the hill. Mrs. Cragin, seeing them 
coming, hastened to light a fire in the “ square 
room,” draw two chairs directly in front of the 
blazing pile, and brush a stray line of dust 
from the hearth. All this she did with some 
trepidation, not quite sure that it would meet 
the wishes of her husband. ^ 

According to general custom, the guest was 
first ushered into the kitchen ; but he was 
allowed to stop here only long enough to 
exchange greetings with its occupants. Dea- 
con Cragin, in no mood for spiritual conversa- 
tion, was in haste to be through with this 
interview. 

“ Sit down, Mr. Gibson,” he said, after clos- 


14 


OLD TIMES. 


ing the door behind them. '‘I hope nothing 
wrong has happened in church matters.” 

Nothing new has happened,” was the 
reply. But I am very anxious, and came 
here for comfort.” 

The Deacon rubbed his hands. He enjoyed 
giving advice ; and with him, advice and 
comfort were synonymous terms. 

His pastor continued : ‘‘ At our prayer- 
meeting last Tuesday, you said you feared 
there was something in the way of our having 
a revival of religion.” 

‘‘Yes, sir. I’ve thought a good deal about 
it lately. I’ve been afraid some of our church 
members were letting go the faith of our 
fathers. I had a talk with Mr. Sprague the 
other day, and he don’t see his way clear 
on foreordination. Then there’s Tripheny 
Whitney, she counts too much on God’s 
mercy, and don’t think enough of the terrors 
of the law. I don’t want to find no fault with 
you, Mr. Gibson, but Parson Grimes used to 
preach rather different from what you do. 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


15 


There isn’t a verse in scriptur but what he 
understood and could explain, and I used to 
tell my folks the tougher it was the better 
he liked it. If you’d just give us some ser- 
mons on doctrinal pints, don’t you think 
they might do good?” 

‘‘They might; doctrine is profitable; and I 
had not suspected myself of failing to preach 
a just proportion of it.” 

“ No, no, you haint failed in any thing, 
We’re suited with our minister. There don’t 
nobody say a word against you. Deacon 
George Ransom said, just before he died, that 
the Lord had heard his prayer, and sent us 
the right man.” 

“ Thank you ;” and having said this, Mr. 
Gibson considered how he should make 
known the object of his visit. He referred 
again to the prayer-meeting. “You said, last 
Tuesday, that if any thing in your life was 
the means of injuring the cause of religion, 
you wished to know what it was.” 

“Yes, sir; I have some recollection of 


16 


OLD TIMES. 


saying sc /nothing like that,” was the hesi- 
tating response. '' I don’t want to be a 
stumbling-block in the way of sinners.” 

“Every Christian has that feeling; but we 
are often so blinded that we fail to see where 
others stumble.” 

“Yes, that’s what I told brother Sprague 
when we were talking about the decrees.” 

As the Deacon said this, he opened a cup- 
board by the chimney, and taking out decan- 
ter and glasses, placed them upon the table. 

Mr. Gibson, aware that his host was already 
under the influence of some kind of stimu- 
lant, decided to run the risk of giving offence, 
rather than encourage further indulgence. 
“ You must excuse me, deacon,” he replied 
when a well filled glass was offered, “ my 
head is none too clear, now ; and I have part 
of a sermon to write before I sleep.” 

“Then this is just what you need. It 
will sort of lift you up, and take away all 
your trouble, if you have any. Take a glass 
before we go any further in our talk.” 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


17 


*^No, I thank you. I should feel the worse 
for it, and I have not long to stop. You 
speak of doctrines, and they are good ; but 
don’t you think that our example, the spirit 
we manifest in our every-day lives, and the 
words which fall from our lips, in unguarded 
moments, have a greater influence upon those 
around us than all our talk about doc- 
trines ?” 

If the face of the man addressed could 
have flushed with a deeper color, it certainly 
would have done so as this question was 
asked. This being impossible, a nervous 
twitching of the mouth, and an angry flash of 
the eyes were the only manifestations of em- 
barrassment 

‘‘ Perhaps they do,” he answered. 

‘‘No doubt of it. Deacon; and those of us 
who have easily besetting sins can hardly 
estimate the injury we do in yielding to 
them.” So far, the pastor had received no 
encouragement to believe that his admonitions 
would be kindly received, yet having formed 


2 


18 


OLD TIMES. 


a purpose, he v/as not to be turned aside from 
it. “ You were very angry when I rode up to 
your cider-mill, and you were beating your 
horse unmercifully. You have the reputation 
of being a hard man in all the relations of 
life; and I have thought, if you realized this, 
you would do differently. It can’t be that 
a Christian would willingly lay himself open 
to such a charge. I knew, before coming 
here, that the chances were you would be 
offended with me for saying this, but 1 con- 
sidered it my duty.” 

The deacon’s face was livid now, as he 
asked : “ Who has slandered me in this 
way ?” 

“ I don’t think any one has slandered you,” 
answered Mr. Gibson. “ I speak what I know, 
except as regards your family; and I judge, 
from appearances, that you govern your chil- 
dren more by fear than love. If we are to 
have a revival of religion, it must begin in 
the church, and each member must see to 
it that one heart is right in the sight of God. 


FIFTY TEARS AGO. 


19 


If I am in any way hindering the good work, 
I hope it will be revealed to me. You think I 
should preach the doctrines more strongly, 
and I shall not forget what you have said. 
I believe you wish to do your duty. Deacon 
Cragin, and if your hasty words and blows 
dishonor the profession you have made, you 
ought, as a Christian, to abjure them forever. 
Let us pray that God will give us light, and 
help us so to live that his cause may be glori- 
fied.'' 

Saying this, the clergyman knelt and poured 
out his soul in prayer, all unconscious that his 
companion remained sitting. 

Never before had Timothy Cragin listened 
to so much plain, honest speaking, addressed 
to himself, and it required an effort on his 
part to comprehend its full meaning. Anger 
at first threatened to prevent all good results ; 
but something in the manner of his pastor 
banished this. That very morning — he re- 
membered it now, although at the time it 
had seemed of no consequence — he struck 


20 


OLD TIMES. 


his youngest boy, because the axe was mis- 
laid. There was no reason why he had done 
this, only to vent his impatience. The child 
knew nothing of the axe, but being near his 
father, received a blow. 

The father was making a mental confession 
of this, when he was roused by the remark : 

should be glad to join with you now, 
deacon.'* 

'' I can't pray," he said. I must think 
awhile. I'm afraid you've told me the truth. 
I’m quick-tempered, and easily provoked. 
Then, I don’t always feel well. I get up in 
the morning with a headache, and a noise with 
the children makes me cross. Another thing, 
I want my cattle and horses to mind, the 
minute I speak, and if they don’t — I see how 
'tis, Mr. Gibson, and I don’t bear you no 
ill will for what you’ve said, though it*s pretty 
hard. You’ll drink with me now, for friend- 
ship’s sake?” 

''No, Deacon; and if you will allow me 
to add to the advice I have already given. 


FIFTY YEARS AGO. 


21 


I should say, be careful that you don’t over- 
step the bounds of moderation in the use 
of liquor. The less I drink the better I 
feel. I am sure to have a headache after 
making parish calls, and I attribute it to 
drinking at every house. People in other 
parts of our country are beginning to talk 
of giving up the use of liquor as a beverage, 
and I have received several letters upon the 
subject from eminent clergymen in other 
States.” 

I’ve heard something about it,” said Dea- 
con Cragin. '‘There’s been a man visiting 
at Mr. Whitney’s, from York State, and he 
says we’re behind the times here. He would 
not taste a drop of any kind of liquor.” 

" I am inclined to think he was wise in 
that. I have had serious thoughts, myself, 
of joining the advance movement, and giving 
up the use of all alcoholic drinks.” 

"You have!” was the reply. "I do hope 
you won’t, Mr. Gibson. Our people ain’t 
used to new things, and there’ll be sure to 


22 


OLD TIMES. 


be trouble if you say anything about it. I 
need something to brace me up; and I never 
could get through a year’s work on my farm 
if I didn’t take a little spirit occasionally.” 

I know that’s the way most of our farmers 
would talk ; but I am not a farmer. I don’t 
need any spirit of alcohol to help me write 
sermons.” 

The Deacon shook his head gravely, and 
responded : My father always used liquor, 

and he was a good man. I’m willing to 
follow his example. Then we’ve Scripture 
for using wine, and Parson Grimes said that 
included all kinds of liquor. I hope you 
won’t say anything against it.” 

‘‘ I shall not, unless I feel it be to be my 
duty,” replied Mr. Gibson. “ I have no desire 
to condemn the habits of our fathers, although 
I am beginning to think that my father is 
wrong in this matter. Yet he has been very 
temperate in the use of liquor, and took 
good care that his boys should understand 
the necessity of this.” 


FIFTY YEARS AGO: 


23 


** I mean to be temperate/’ said deacon 
Cragin. I only take what spirit I need, 
except as I drink with company; and now it 
don’t seem quite friendly for you not to try 
this brandy. Old Mr. Nichols was in here 
yesterday, and he said ’twas the best he ever 
tasted. He’s a good judge, too.” 

“I presume he is;” and the clergyman 
thought of how this old man had looked the 
last time they met. His eyes were red and 
watery; his lips were parted, revealing a dis- 
colored mouth; and his whole appearance 
was disagreeable in the extreme. 

‘^He is so old,” said a good woman, apolo- 
gizing for his looks; and yet Mr. Nichols 
had lived but little past the allotted age of 
man. A professing Christian, constant in his 
attendance upon the ordinances of religion, 
he was ever ready to defend the doctrines of 
his faith; while at home he was fretful, fault- 
finding and peevish to the last degree. Ever 
complaining of some ache or pain, several 
doses of bitters were required each day to 


24 


OLD TIMES. 


keep up his strength. Mr. Gibson knew all 
this, and was quite' willing to trust the old 
man’s judgment in regard to the brandy. So 
he persisted in its refusal, much to the cha- 
grin of his host. “If I enlist in the temper- 
ance cause, I shall hope for the support of 
my deacons,” he said, as he rose to go. 

“ I’m afraid you wont have it,” was the 
reply. “ I don’t see my way clear to give 
up the old habit. It seems as though folks 
had a right to eat and drink what they’re a 
mind to. I told that man from York state 
I wouldn’t sign no paper making promises. 
I don’t believe in signing away my liberty. 
When a man’s twenty-one, he ought to know 
enough to take care of himself.” 

“ People ought to know more than they do. 
But you must acknowledge, deacon, that 
there are some in town who would be better 
off if they were obliged to do without liquor.” 

“ Well, yes, I suppose there is. There’s 
Nate Barnes, Sam Buffy, and Sukey Towne, 
they drink more than does them any good.” 


FIFTY YEAES AGO. 


25 


'^You have named three, deacon. I could 
name ten times that number, and some of 
them members of our own church. I am 
sorry to say it, but it is the truth,” added 
Mr. Gibson. 

Fairly committed now was the young cler- 
gyman, although he had not intended it when 
he left home. Deacon Cragin would be likely 
to repeat what he had said ; and before an- 
other Sabbath it might be known throughout 
the town. 



26 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER 11. 

LITTLE LEAVEN. 

ARDHACK was no worse than other 
places, but the inhabitants were quite 
sure that their manner of living was 
right, and it would require a mighty 
influence to work any positive change in their 
habits. A hardy, independent people, living 
much out of doors, and exhausting their 
strength in physical labor, they had neither 
time nor inclination for much intellectual re- 
search. They studied the Bible, and intended 
to follow its teachings ; but then, as now, 
each read for himself, and as the deacon 
said, ‘‘perverted scriptur was hard to argue 
away.” 

He did not thank his pastor for telling him 
his faults, yet he so far denied himself as to 
return the brandy to the cupboard untasted. 



LITTLE LEAVEN. 


27 


Mrs. Cragin had expected that the household 
would be called together as usual, and won- 
dered much when she saw Mr. Gibson half 
way up the hill. Afraid that something was 
wrong, and yet not presuming to ask in 
regard to it, she could only wait the develop- 
ment of time. 

The boys, who were still at work in the 
cider-mill trying to repair the accident which 
had been caused by their father’s impatience, 
hoped that the minister would stay to sup- 
per. 

‘‘ I’m sick of being scolded at from morn- 
ing till night,” said Jerry, the eldest. ‘‘ Father 
never is satisfied with any thing, and it’s no 
use trying to please him. I aint going to 
try much more.” 

^'What are you going to do?” 

Run away,” was the reply. 

‘‘Where’ll you go to?” asked James, the 
youngest boy present. 

“Any where, out of father’s way. He got 
mad, and struck the horse for nothing, else 


28 


OLD TIMES. 


we shouldn’t had this fuss. There’s always 
something of the kind happening. I shall 
be glad when I’m twenty one.” 

So shall I. So shall I,” echoed two 
voices. 

“Jerry, don’t you remember what that man 
said that was visiting down to Mr. Whitney’s 
last summer?” asked Ira. 

“ I remember a good many things he said.” 

“Well, I mean what he said about drinking 
liquor.” 

“Yes, I do remember what he said about 
it,” answered Jerry. “ He said it made people 
cross and ugly, and I believe it. I’m glad 
I heard him talk.” 

“ So am I, and I shan’t forget it in a hurry,” 
responded Ira. “Father says liquor aint good 
for boys and women folks. Mr. Haskell said 
it aint good for anybody.” 

“But the minister drinks,” suggested James, 
or, as he was universally called, Jim Cragin, a 
boy twelve years of age, who could look his 
father full in the face, and tell the truth at all 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


29 


hazards. mean to ask him about it some 
time, and see what he says.’' 

“Wont you be afraid?” asked one of the 
brothers. 

“No, indeed,” was the reply. “I heard him 
say he liked to have children ask him ques- 
tions. Pheny Whitney said she was going to 
talk to him about it.” 

“But she’s a woman.” 

“ I know it ; and I’m a boy, that wants to 
know things as much as she does.” 

Deacon Cragin did not stop to find fault as 
he passed through the kitchen; neither did 
he scold when he reached the cider-mill, 
although his boys expected a scolding extra- 
ordinary. 

“ We can’t get through to-morrow,” he 
said, at length. “ I’m sorry for that. It’s 
getting late in the season, and there’s a good 
deal to be done before school begins. They 
say we’re going to have a good school, and I 
want you all to go every day. The master 
aint going to board round this winter.” 


30 


OLD TIMES. 


“Aint! Why not, father!” 

‘‘Because he wants to study. Mr. Whitney 
said they’d concluded to board him cheap, 
for the sake of his company, and the district 
are going to pay in grain. He’s some relation 
to them, and they wanted him to come and 
make a visit, any way.” 

Ordinarily, the boys would have learned 
this away from home, as their father seldom 
talked with them, except to give orders, or 
find fault. Now he was thinking, and felt the 
truth of what had been said to him. For 
some reason, work went easier, and the acci- 
dent was repaired with very little trouble. 

“ We can finish up to-morrow by grinding 
a while to-night,” said Jerry, a little before 
dark. 

“Yes, I suppose we could; but you boys 
must be tired enough to stop.” 

“ No matter about that. We want to get 
through.” 

The evening proved a good time for work. 
Every thing moved smoothly, and there was 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


31 


no scolding. The next morning, however, the 
deacon had a severe headache, the younger 
children were fretful, and poor Mrs. Cragin 
found it difficult to meet the many demands 
made upon her. Her husband was always 
impatient for his breakfast, and the conscious- 
ness of this only increased her trouble. 

hard man,” his children did not climb 
upon his knees, but kept at the opposite side 
of the room from him. Twice he went to the 
cupboard and took down a bottle, and twice 
replaced it without drinking. Yet he felt 
badly. His stomach needed something bra- 
cing, and — yes, it was true — although he was 
the deacon of a Christian church, his appetite 
craved indulgence. 

It was a sin and a shame for such men as 
Sam Buffy to love the taste of liquor; but 
respectable men who could govern their appe- 
tite, how was it with them? Ah, human nature 
was then much the same that it is now, and 
the actors in any given drama seemed to make 
a wonderful difference in the drama itself 


32 


OLD TIMES. 


Breakfast ready, there was no more time for 
moralizing. This meal dispatched, the Bible 
was read, and a prayer offered, as usual. 

“ Shall we go up to the mill !” asked Jerry. 

‘"Yes,” answered his father. ‘‘Tve got to 
look after some things at the barn, and then 
I’ll come up. I hope we shall get through 
grinding to-day.’’ 

“ We shall get through in good season,” 
was the reply. “I should like to go down to 
Mr. Whitney’s after supper, can you spare me?” 

‘‘ Home is the best place for boys,” Deacon 
Cragin began to say; and then changing his 
mind, gave the desired permission, adding, 
** Ira and Jim can go along with you, if they 
want to.” 

Work was through at the mill soon after 
dinner, there having been no occasion for 
scolding or blows. The deacon’s headache 
had vanished, and he was in remarkable good 
humor, when old Mr. Nichols came in, bewail- 
ing his infirmities. 

There didn’t nothing seem to do him any 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


33 


good. That brandy he drinked the other day 
went to the right spot, and helped him won- 
derful ; but since then he’d tried most every 
thing.” 

Of course he wanted some more of that 
brandy, and of course he received it. Obser- 
ving that his host did not drink with him, he 
asked the reason. 

O, I thought I wouldn’t drink any spirits 
to-day was the reply. I’m trying an 
experiment.” 

‘‘You! Deacon. I didn’t think that of you. 
I don’t believe in trying new things.” And 
the speaker drained the glass which he held 
in his palsied hands. “ Much obliged to you. 
That’ll do me a sight of good.” 

“There, I knew what he came after all the 
time,” said the irrepressible Jim, so soon as 
the visitor was gone. “He’s always guzzling 
down something, and is just as cross as a bear. 
I’m glad he aint my grandfather; and I hope 
I shan’t live to be old, if I’ve got to look as 
bad as he does.” 

3 


34 


OLD TIMES. 


“Hush! don’t talk so,” said Mrs. Cragin, 
looking from Jim to his father, who made no 
comments, “ Mr. Nichols is a good man.” 

“Well, I never want to look like him, if he 
is, and I know what makes him look so 
too.” 

“ What is it ?” asked the deacon. 

“ It’s because he’s drinked so much cider 
and liquor all his life,” answered Jim, nothing 
daunted. 

“ Why, my son, don’t talk so 1” 

“ It’s the truth, mother. I heard that man 
down to Mr. Whitney’s talk about it.” 

“ Did he talk about Mr. Nichols ?” 

“No, ma’m ; but he told how all old men 
look that drink rum, and it’s just like Mr. 
Nichols. Sam Buffy looks so too, and lots 
of other folks that go to meeting. You see, 
I’m on the watch now.” 

“ That boy remembers every thing he sees 
and hears,” remarked the father not long after. 
Mr. Gibson says he’ll be a smart man, but I’m 
afraid sometimes he’ll be a bad one.” 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


35 


hope not,” replied the mother, with a 
low sigh. ‘‘Jim is always a good boy to 
me. 

Going to Mr. Whitney’s was a great treat 
to the Cragin boys, and at this particular 
time it promised to be a greater treat than 
usual. They were anxious to hear about the 
schoolmaster, and look at some new books, 
which the owners were unwilling to have car- 
ried from the house. Jim, especially, was in- 
terested in these books, he having caught a 
glimpse of them while delivering a message 
from his father. 

'' Come home early. Remember it’s Satur- 
day night,” was the injunction, to which a 
hearty, “Yes, sir,” was responded. 

“ 1 can’t think what’s got into father,” said 
Jim. “ He never was so good-natured before. 
1 wonder- if the minister talked to him.” 

“ I don’t care whether he did or not,” an- 
swered Jerry, whose head was at that time 
full of plans for leaving home. 

Mr. Haskell, who visited at Mr. Whitney’s 


36 


OLD TIMES. 


the previous summer, had talked so much 
of the West, with its fertile lands and abun- 
dant crops, that the young man thought all 
things would be possible to him, could he 
reach the favored country. Jerry Cragin was 
willing to work, and did work; ‘'not a lazy 
bone in him,” as those said, who knew him 
best, but he was high-spirited, and impatient 
of arbitrary restraint 

“You don’t feel very good natured, your- 
self, I guess,” said Jim, in reply to his bro- 
ther’s remark. 

“ I guess I don’t, but I’ll try and get over 
my cross fit before we get to Mr. Whitney’s,” 
was the answer; and presently he laughed 
at some joke perpetrated by Ira. 

If the kitchen over which Triphena Whit- 
ney presided was not, in reality, the most 
pleasant in town, it certainly seemed so to 
those who entered it that evening. There 
was a fire in the ample fire-place ; not smoul- 
dering and smoking with faint, spasmodic 
efforts to shed some ray of light, but blazing 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


87 


cheerfully, while long tongues of flame darted 
up the wide-mouthed chimney. 

Good evening,” said Triphena, rising from 
the low rocker, of home manufacture, in which . 
she had been sitting. ^‘I’m glad you came 
down; John and Frank have been talking 
about you since supper. They’ve just gone 
out a little while with father, but they’ll be 
back soon. We’ll have some candles, so we 
can see each other.” 

It seems light here now,” remarked Jerry, 
with an effort to overcome his embarrassment. 

Plenty of fire-light ; father and the boys 
are careful to keep plenty of dry wood.” 

At this Jim gave a little nod, as much as 
to say, “ I’ll remember that.” 

Two candles were lighted and placed upon 
a small round table, on which lay the new 
books, and the room was even more pleasant 
than before. 

“ Now you can read, if you choose,” said 
Triphena. ” We think we can’t let our books 
be carried out of the house ; but we shall be 


38 


OLD TIMES. 


glad to have you come here to read them 
any time. I hope you’ll like to come, after 
school begins. John and Frank are expect- 
• ing to learn a great deal this winter.” 

Is the master going to board here all 
the time?” asked Jerry. 

‘'Yes, that’s the plan. He wants to study, 
and thought he couldn’t board round, and 
do that very well ; so the district concluded 
to pay what father asked for his board.” 

“ He’s from college, aint he ?” 

“ Yes, and he’s my cousin, though I’ve 
never seen him. His mother and my mother 
were sisters.” 

“ Then he’s some relation to Mr. Haskell ?” 

“Yes, and I guess he’s some like him. 
Any way, I hope he is ; and so does father. 
Our school needs a good teacher.” 

“What’s the master’s name?” asked Ira, 
whose attention was divided between a book 
and the conversation. 

“George Hudson,” was the reply. 

“ Do you know how he looks ?” 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


39 


know he is tall, and has brown hair 
and blue eyes. Mr. Haskell said he was 
called handsome.'* 

Then I guess he looks some like you," • 
remarked Jerry, without a thought of com- 
plimenting his hostess. 

“ Perhaps so," she answered, with an amused 
smile; and just then her father and brothers 
came in. 

There were hearty, even boisterous greet- 
ings; Mr. Whitney’s presence being no re- 
straint upon his sons. 

“ Finished cider making for this year ?" he 
asked. 

Yes, sir," was the reply. 

How many barrels have you made ?" 

Twenty-five." 

‘‘That’s a large supply for one family. I 
havn’t made but about half as much as I have 
before; and I expect Pheny will use half of 
that, cooking. The boys and I have about 
concluded not to drink a great deal." 

“ We’re getting pretty temperate," remarked 


40 


OLD TIMES. 


the daughter, smiling. ‘'There hasn’t been 
any liquor drinked in the house for more 
than a month, except when we had company.” 

“ Pheny don’t allow it,” added her brother 
Frank. 

“ No, I don’t,” she answered. “ If father 
would give his consent, we wouldn’t have it 
for company.” 

“We’ll see about that,” said the father. 
“But perhaps you’ll allow us some nuts and 
apples, with cider enough to wash them 
down.” 

“Yes, I will, and Frank may go after them.” 

Frank, who had been exerting himself to 
draw Jim Cragin’s attention from a book, 
sprang up willingly, sure that the apples and 
nuts would rouse his playmate. 

In this, however, he was mistaken ; and 
at length his father said, “ Let Jim read, if he 
wants to. You’ll have time enough to talk 
with him this winter. Every one must go to 
school ; and I expect the large boys will help 
the master. George Hudson wont want to 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


41 


spend his time thrashing unruly scholars; 
though from what IVe heard, I judge he’s 
able to do it.” 

‘‘ I guess he won’t need to do much thrash- 
ing,” replied Jerry. ‘‘ The master we had 
last winter didn’t know so much as some of 
the scholars, and we found it out.” 

‘‘Well, we can try, George, and I hope 
you’ll like him. He’s had to make his own 
way in the world, and knows what hard work 
is. His father is a poor man, but George 
thought he must go to college.” 

“ What do you think about having a tem- 
perance society here in town?” asked Tri- 
phena Whitney, just before the boys started 
for home. 

“ I wish you would have one,” exclaimed 
Jim ; “ I’d belong to it the first thing, and I 
guess all our folks would, except father. He 
wants some bitters two or three times a day.” 

“ Jim !” said his brother, in a tone of 
reproof 

“Well, what’s the matter? I haven’t told 


42 


OLD TIMES. 


any thing but the truth, and mother says the 
truth’s always right. O, dear !” he added, 
changing the subject of his remarks, “ I wish 
I could stay long enough to finish reading 
this book, and I wish we had some books at 
home, with something besides sermons in 
them.” 

Deacon Cragin, getting impatient for the 
return of his boys, went to the door and saw 
them coming. ‘'They’ve done pretty well,” 
he said to his wife. “ If they’d stayed too 
late, they wouldn’t gone again just at present. 
Jerry likes to go away from home rather too 
well.” 

“ And he’s getting old enough to go,” 
ventured the boy’s mother. “ He’s almost 
nineteen now, and it wontl)e but a little while 
before he’ll be twenty-one, and his own man.’* 

“ But he’ll do as I say, as long as he lives 
with me, and all the rest of my children too.” 

“Jerry aint a bad boy.” 

“ I never said he was ; but he wants his 


own way. 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


43 


^^And wouldn’t it be best to let him have 
it in some things ? He’d be better contented 
at home, and more willing to do.” 

For a wonder, the Deacon didn’t say any 
thing about the duty of ruling his own house- 
hold. He remembered what Mr. Gibson had 
said to him, and was silent. 

The boys came in, when he asked, ** How 
are Mr. Whitney’s folks ?” 

*'A11 well,” was the answer. 

“Don’t you think!” cried Jim, with char- 
acteristic earnestness, “they’re all temperance 
down there ; and I’m going to be temperance 
too. I ain’t going to look like Mr. Nichols 
when I’m old, and I know what makes him 
look so.” 

“Jim!” emphasized by a stamp of the foot. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Go to bed, and don’t let me hear any 
more such talk. I hope you’ll be as good 
a man as Mr. Nichols is.” 

“ I hope I shall be a good deal better,” 
muttered Jim, half way up the stairs. 


44 


OLD TIMES. 


Going to bed was no punishment, and he 
was just congratulating himself upon having 
such a nice time to think over what he had 
read, when he fell asleep, to wake only when 
the next morning’s sun lighted up the low 
chamber. Even then he rubbed his eyes, 
winking very hard, to make sure he was at 
home. In his dreams he had seen an army 
of old men, with bowed forms, quivering 
chins, and palsied limbs, all looking very 
much like Mr. Nichols. 

‘Mt must been a dream,” said the boy, 
springing up. Guess there’ll be some of 
them to meeting to-day though, and if I was 
the minister. I’d preach them a thundering 
sermon.” He had heard of thundering 
sermons, and thought they must be effective. 

A call from below disturbed his meditations, 
and as by this time he had completed his 
simple toilet, he was ready to obey the sum- 
mons. A Sabbath stillness pervaded the 
house. There was no unnecessary work or 
talk. The milking was done, and Deacon 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


45 


Cragin sat, with the large family Bible open 
before him, ready to conduct the morning 
worship. Jim dropped noiselessly into a low 
chair, vacated by his little sister, who was 
repaid for this kindness by a seat in his lap. 

“ Have you learned your verses ?” asked 
his mother, when breakfast was over. 

‘'Yes, ma’m, but *1 guess I’ll look them 
over again,” was the reply. “ Pheny wants 
to have us say every word.” 

The verses which constituted the Sabbath- 
school lesson were reviewed and repeated. 
The boys, who always “ walked to meeting,” v’' 
then arrayed themselves in their carefully 
brushed Sunday suits and left the house. 
Loitering a little, they were soon overtaken 
by John and Frank Whitney, who usually 
improved this opportunity for seeing their 
neighbors. Naturally, the)^ talked of the 
subjects which had most interested them the 
previous evening; and John, whom all con- 
sidered a very candid young man, expressed 
himself strongly. 


46 


OLD TIMES. 


Mr. Haskell opened my eyes, and since 
then, Pheny and I have been looking round. 
I tell you there are a good many drunkards 
in our town besides them that are called so. 
I mean to try and have a temperance society 
in our district this winter, if we don’t have 
one anywhere else. You’ll join it, wont you, 
Jerry?” 

‘‘Yes, and be glad to,” was answered. 

“ Why don’t you say something to me 
about it?” asked Jim, looking back with a 
flash of his dark eyes. “ I’m big enough to 
jine, as old Mr. Nichols says.” 

“ I hadn’t got as far as you,” replied John. 
“I should expect you to join, of course. You 
always like any thing new.” 

“So I do. I’m tired of old things;” and this 
said, the progressive boy turned again to his 
companion. 

As these boys walked on they were joined 
by others from the farm houses, until quite 
a goodly company of young people wended 
their way up the hill to the large, old fash- 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


47 


ioned meeting-house. There, in the porch, 
cordial greetings and shy glances were ex- 
changed between those who had not met since 
the last Sabbath ; while many a tell-tale blush 
revealed some otherwise concealed preference. 
The minister's appearance interrupted all this, 
and the congregation followed him into the 
house. 

It was noticed that Mr. Gibson was very 
pale, looking as though he had passed a 
sleepless night. His wife too, usually so 
smiling, seemed to share her husband’s 
trouble, whatever it might be, and hardly 
raised her eyes from the floor during the 
whole morning service. Yet the pastor had 
never preached more earnestly, or prayed 
more fervently. Indeed, some thought his 
solemn manner must be induced by some 
premonition of sickness or death. 

At noon several took occasion to speak 
to him of his health, when he assured them 
that he was perfectly well. During the inter- 
mission the Sabbath-School had its session ; 


48 


OLD TIMES. 


and the ho7'se-shed class, always large in 
country places, discussed the minister’s looks 
and the morning sermon in the same breath 
with the crops and weather. 

“ Mr. Gibson don’t preach much like old 
Parson Grimes, but he’s a smart man,” said 
one. “I like him, though he hits hard some- 
times. Seems as though he knew our weak 
pints.” 

guess he does,” said another. '‘But 
then he preaches gospel truth, and there can’t 
nobody say he don’t. For one, I’m willing to 
take my share, if it does hit hard. There 
wasn’t much smoothing over in Bible times ; 
and I like a man that speaks out what he 
believes.” 

“ But what if he should tell you a thing was 
wrong, you’d always thought right?” 

" I’d examine into the matter. ’Taint my 
nature to condemn a thing till I know some- 
thing about it;” and in justice to the speaker, 
it should be said that this was true. 

If the sermon of the morning had been 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


49 


plain and direct, that of the afternoon was still 
more so, and there were few sleepers in the 
congregation. What does it mean ?’’ asked 
one and another, while only Deacon Cragin 
had any clue to the motives which had 
prompted such preaching. 

The mail of the previous day had brought 
several letters to Rev. Thomas Gibson, the 
contents of which had been read and re-read, 
until they produced their legitimate effect. 

“The pulpits of the land must give no 
uncertain sound in this contest. If need be, 
we must for the present leave the old way of 
sermonizing, and speak straight out to our 
people the terrible facts which are now too 
well established to be disputed. Every clergy- 
man must feel his responsibility, and every 
church must hear the truth. What will you 
do ?” 

Thus closed one letter, and Mr. Gibson, no 
longer hesitating, went to his study, not to 
write a temperance sermon, but to prepare 
a statement of what he considered a pastor’s 


50 


OLD TIMES. 


duty ; thus vindicating, in advance, his future 
course. After this, no one could doubt his 
sincerity. 

Contrary to his expectation, his refusal of 
brandy had not been reported, and on Monday, 
when calling upon one of his parishioners, 
he had an opportunity to offer the remon- 
strance of example against the use of alcoholic 
drinks. His host, a poor man, was much 
mortified, and hastened to apologize for hav- 
ing nothing better to give his minister. 

‘‘ Don’t make any excuses,” replied Mr. 
Gibson. “ I would as soon drink this as any 
kind of liquor. I have done with it all. If 
your wife will give me a cup of tea, with 
some bread and cheese, I shall be glad to 
take supper with you.” 

This healed all wounded feelings ; and 
after a long talk, in which the pastor gave 
his reasons for the change in his habits, they 
sat down to a table spread with the best the 
house afforded. 

do enjoy a good cup of tea, Mrs. Bar- 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


51 


rett; and these cream biscuits are good 
enough to be eaten without butter or cheese 
said the visitor, sipping his tea with evident 
relish. Fve heard some of our farmers 
talk about the high price of tea ; but they 
spend more for liquor than would keep them 
well supplied with this cheering beverage.” 

“ To be sure they do,” replied Mrs. Bar- 
rett, whose heart had been won by the praise 
of her biscuit. 

‘‘ I know they do,” added her husband, after 
some consideration. We’re poor folks, and 
have to live pretty close, with so many mouths 
to feed ; though there aint one too many,” he 
added, looking round upon his children, with 
a smile. “We think we can’t afford to use 
much tea; and wife goes without it a good 
many times, when ’twould do her good. But 
I take a little spirit every day, and never 
thought about the cost. What say, Sally, 
shall we give up the spirit ?” 

“ That’s for you to say,” was the reply. “ I 
don’t take none, only washing-days, and when 


52 


OLD TIMES. 


I don’t feel well. I don’t care nothing about 
it any way.” 

Well, we’ll see,” said Mr. Barrett. We 
haint got much in the house; and if the minis- 
ter can get along, without spirit, I guess I can.” 

Here then was a little encouragement, al- 
though nothing was really decided. Mr. Bar- 
rett’s was not the only poor family who were 
denied many of the comforts of life, in order 
that decanter and jug might be well supplied. 

The next day Mr. Gibson went to Mr. 
Whitney’s, and here he found those who were 
ready and willing to stay up his hands. 

“ Here’s Pheny been wanting to talk with 
you about this temperance movement,” said 
her father. She’s pretty much engaged 
about it, and I’ve concluded to let her have 
her way here at home. She wont drink 
liquor herself, and she don’t want to give it 
to anybody else.” 

‘H am glad of it,” was the hearty reply. 

People have been* putting the cup to their 
own and their neighbors’ lips long enough.” 


LITTLE LEAVEN. 


53 


‘^You talked with Cousin Haskell, when he 
was here last summer,” remarked Mr. V/hit- 
ney. 

“Yes, sir, I did; and was glad to hear that 
something is being done to stay the tide of 
intemperance. We are behind the times 
here.” 

“ So he said, and also said a great many 
other things I never thought of before, though 
I know they’re true. There are men in town 
that were called smart and promising when 
they were young, that have turned out bad ; 
and the smartest seem to be the worst. Then 
we’ve got a good many that think they mean 
to do right, that are hard and cross in their 
families. Now it’s my belief, since I’ve thought 
this matter over, that the cider and liquor 
they drink makes them cross.” 

“ No doubt of it,” responded Mr. Gibson ; 
“all alcoholic drinks make the nerves over 
sensitive, unless they stupefy the drinker ; and 
I am quite sure we should have less scolding 
if we had less drinking.” 


54 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 

HE next Sabbath was one of those 
rare days which glorify a New Eng- 
land autumn, and throw a veil of 
beauty over every feature of the 
landscape. A soft haze rested upon the far 
off hills, while in the clear, pure atmosphere, 
others were revealed in all the wealth of form 
and color. Gray rocks, shaded nooks where 
lingered summer’s verdure, and wooded 
heights, blended in one grand picture, which 
Nature offered to the admiring gaze of her 
worshippers. 

It may be that in this primitive town there 
were few who saw with poet’s or artist’s eye ; 
but there were many that morning conscious 
of an exaltation of feeling, at which, in their 
simplicity, they half wondered. 



FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 5t 

** A pleasant day/’ said one and another. 
‘There’ll be a good many folks out to-day.” 

Mr. Gibson himself expected a larger con* 
gregation than usual ; and in this he was 
not disappointed. The perfect weather lured 
forth both young and old, and every family 
in the parish was represented. Those who 
loved doctrine were feasted ; and then, before 
the doctrine was forgotten, they listened to 
a sermon so eminently practical, that no one 
could fail to make a personal application of its 
truths. These had to do with their every-day 
lives ; and all know that it is easier to assent 
to abstract theories than to acknowledge our 
own imperfections. Men who could talk of 
foreordination and free-will with the utmost 
assurance, were restless when told that pa- 
tience, forbearance and humility were the car- 
dinal virtues of a Christian. 

Possibly, however, the mere assertion of this 
fact would have produced little effect; but Mr. 
Gibson made sure that his words were not like 
water, spilled upon the ground. These vir- 


56 


OLD TIMES. 


tues were to be exercised in all the relations 
of life, both at home and abroad ; and when 
a Christian failed so to exercise them, religion 
was dishonored, and the power of the church 
weakened. 

Deacon Cragin heard every word of the 
two sermons, and saw his sins as never before. 
Jim was sure the minister meant some one in 
particular that day, and looked around for 
the old men he had seen in his dream. 
Some of them he recognized, and wondered 
if they understood the sermon. Anyway he 
hoped his father did ; though his father hadn’t 
been so cross lately. 

These thoughts passed through the boy’s 
mind while the choir was singing, and then 
came the announcement of meetings for the 
^ week. 

'' Wednesday afternoon, at two, o’clock. 
Rev. Mr. Safford will preach in this house, 
from the text, ‘ Do thyself no harm.’ I trust 
there will be a full attendance from all parts 
of the town ; and I would suggest to the 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


57 


heads of families, that, if possible, work be 
so arranged no one need remain at home.” 

Mr. Safford was so universally respected 
for his learning and piety, that it was hardly 
necessary to bespeak for him a large audience. 
This announcement was the first intimation 
of the meeting, not even the deacons having 
been consulted in regard to it; but Mr. Gibson 
made no explanation. He pronounced the 
benediction, and the people went their way. 

** Have you any idea what this meeting is 
for?” asked Pheny Whitney of her father. 

“ Nothing in particular, I guess,” was the 
reply. I suppose the minister hopes some 
good may be done by an extra sermon.” 

But Mr. Safford is a temperance man,” 
said Pheny. “ Bashy Turner told me about 
it. She’s been at work up to the north part 
of the town, and she saw somebody that 
belongs to Mr. Salford’s church. Perhaps 
he’s going to preach about temperance on 
Wednesday. I hope he is, and we must all 
go” 


58 


OLD TIMES. 


Certain, child. I wouldn’t miss it for a 
good deal. But don’t say a word about tem- 
perance, for fear folks will stay away.” 

Farmers and farmer’s wives were at work 

early on Wednesday morning, that all things 

% 

might be done in season. People were 
punctual, and at the time appointed, Mr. 
Safford rose before a large congregation and 
invoked the blessing of God to rest down 
upon them. The choir sung an anthem in 
their best style, followed by reading , of the 
Scriptures, and a long prayer, after which 
the sermon was commenced. 

An hour and a half Mr. Safford spoke of 
the sin and folly of intemperance. There 
was a slight movement among the people 
when his subject was fully understood, and 
a few ventured to express their dissatisfaction 
by coughing ; but the pause which succeeded, 
with the calm, steady gaze of the speaker, 
soon silenced this. 

“Three hundred thousand drunkards in our 
land! Is it not time that some one sound 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


59 


a note of warning? Three hundred thousand 
drunkards moving in sad procession to dis- 
honored graves! Is it not time that some- 
thing be done to stay the tide of intemper- 
ance ? 

Perliaps you will say, ^We are not drunk- 
ards. We are not intemperate. We only take 
what we need, and what we drink in com- 
pany.’ But, my friends, you don’t need one 
drop of alcoholic liquor when you are in 
health. More — every drop you drink injures 
you, soul and body.” 

How the quivering chins quivered, and the 
trembling limbs trembled ! Did not they 
who bore these infirmities know that they 
had never been injured by the use of alco- 
holic liquor ? Had it not helped them, all 
the way through life? 

Mr. Safford could read these questions in 
their faces, and hastened to answer them in 
the negative, bringing forward abundant evi- 
dence to prov^e the same. 

In summer you drink liquor to help you 


60 


OLD TIMES. 


endure the heat; in winter, to help you bear 
the cold ; in the morning you drink to tone 
up your stomach ; before eating, to give you 
an appetite; after eating, to promote diges- 
tion ; and then, again, before retiring for the 
night, to make you sleep soundly. If a friend 
comes in you drink with him, and if you go 
to the store to buy goods, you drink there. 
This is intempera.nce.” 

Bathsheba Turner, the tailoress of the town, 
who, in her yearly pilgrimages from house 
to house, could not fail to see what was the 
bane of so many families, nodded her head 
emphatically, whispering to her neighbor, 
“ That’s true as the Bible.’* 

This was when the great majority of the 
people were ignorant of the real effect of 
alcohol upon the human system. They did 
not know it was a poison, vitiating the blood 
and destroying the brain; consequently Mr. 
Safford’s sermon contained much statistical 
information, which startled his hearers as a 
new revelation. 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


61 


In closing, he addressed himself to the 
young, urging them to take higher ground 
than their fathers had done. He considered 
the great expense of such universal drinking, 
and the poverty which resulted. Finally, he 
he appealed to all — young and old, rich and 
poor, men, women, and children, to come 
out on the Lord’s side, and help to rid the 
country of its greatest enemy. 

No one thought of the time while he was 
speaking, but when he sat down, those who 
had watches consulted them, and were sur- 
prised to find that it was so late. 

Mr. Gibson rose, and after expressing the 
interest with which he had listened to the 
sermon, said : “ It is proposed that a temper- 
ance society be formed here; and after the 
benediction is pronounced, we will adjourn 
to the town-house for that purpose. Brother 
Safford has some experience in forming such 
societies, and will address us upon the sub- 
ject.” 

This was going faster and farther than was 


62 


OLD timp:s. 


at all consistent with the character of Hard- 
hack people, but the doors of the town-house 
stood invitingly open ; and many who would 
have deliberated for weeks, had there been 
opportunity, and then decided squarely against 
all innovation, entered. 

A few turned their faces resolutely home- 
ward ; and, in some cases, families were 
divided. Old Mr. Nichols was horrified at 
what he had heard, although previous to this 
Mr. Safford had been to him as an oracle. 
What had been said was “ agin natur and 
Scriptur, both and he wouldn't countenance 
a society to take away folks’ liberty. He was 
going home, and he commanded his house- 
hold to accompany him. I’m going to stay 
and see this out, and Jane thinks she’ll stay 
with me,” said his son. As for the children, 
they can do as they’re a mind to, though one 
of the boys may go home with you, and take 
the horse back.” 

“ Ezry !” cried the old man, half choked 
with rage ; but “ Ezry ” had made up his 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


63 


mind, and it was of no use to speak in that 
tone. Neither did the complaint of a terri- 
ble feelin of goneness in the stomach” move 
the son’s heart. 

‘‘Tell Matthew to git up the horse, then, 
and I’ll try to ride home, though its hard 
to be turned off so, in my old age.” 

“ I want Matthew at the meeting,” was the 
reply. “ He’s old enough to understand what 
he hears, and Joe can drive for you.” 

Mr. Nichols shook his head, while his chin 
dropped lower, and his eyes grew more 
watery. Guess I’d better go into Mr. 
Sprague’s and git a little somethin warmin 
for my stomach, fore I start,” he said. 

“You had better go right home now,” said 
his daughter-in-law, whose mental vision had 
improved during the last two hours. “ It 
aint far to go, and Joe ought to be at the 
meeting. I want all the boys to hear what’s 
said.” 

“ Come, father, decide quick what you’ll 
do,” added his son. “ We don’t want to stand 


64 


OLD TIMES. 


here, and be in the v/ay. Will you go, or 
stay ?’* 

“ I’ll go,” he answered ; and very unwil- 
lingly, Joe got into the wagon to drive off. 
His mother told him he need not be gone 
long; but his grandfather took care of that. 
The horse must walk every step of the way, 
although one would suppose that, under the 
circumstances, the old man would be anxious 
to reach home as soon as possible. At last 
the boy was released, and you may be sure it 
required but a short time for him to drive to 
the village, and make his way into the town- 
house. 

I think we’d best adjourn,” some one was 
saying. ‘‘ There aint time to discuss the mat- 
ter to-night; and I for one, haint thought 
enough about it to make up my mind.” 

Mr. Whitney rose, before any motion for 
adjourning could be made. ‘Ht seems to me 
that we have heard enough this afternoon, 
to convince any candid man of the evils of 
dram-drinking. I move that as many as see 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 65 

fit, sign their names to the paper Mr. Gibson 
has read, and so help form a temperance 
society in this place.” 

** I second the motion, and there’s no need 
putting it to vote,” said Deacon Cragin. If 
anybody wants to sign the paper, there’s 
liberty ; and if anybody don’t want to, there’s 
liberty not to.” 

** Perhaps folks’d like to hear the constitoo- 
tion agin, and know what they’re asked to 
jine,” remarked an elderly man in the back 
part of the house. 

“I will read it again,” said Mr. Gibson; 
and after the reading he wrote his own name 
under the constitution, as it was termed. His 
wife added her signature. Mr. Whitney’s 
family waited for an opportunity to join the 
society, while near them stood Deacon Cra- 
gin and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Barrett, and 
Ezra Nichols, with his wife. Jerry and Ira 
Cragin came up, and so soon as there was 
room around the table, Jim made his appear-, 
ance, with four other boys about his own 


5 


66 


OLD TIMES. 


age. None of these boys could write very 
well, but they could read their own names, 
and the minister could remember who they 
were, so there would be no trouble on that 
score. 

Some other names were added, and at the 
close of the meeting over thirty signatures 
were counted, which was far better than Mr. 
Gibson had dared to hope. Yet of these 
thirty, less than half were those of profess- 
ing Christians; and of the five deacons of 
the church, only one had given his influence 
in favor of the new movement. Tw^o went 
home without even entering the town-house ; 
while two sat silent, with knit brows and 
compressed lips. They had neither part nor 
lot in this matter ; but the pastor knew that 
the time would come when they would talk. 
Never were people taken more by surprise 
than was this people, and when the meeting 
was dismissed they could hardly realize what 
had transpired. 

“Not much of a society neither,’’ said one. 


FIKST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


67 


More’n half on ’em as signed are women 
and children.” 

“Well, what of that?” asked Bathsheba 
Turner, who had overheard this remark. 
“ What you goin to do about it ? Kill ’em 
off, and leave the men folks to do their own 
cookin and chores ?” 

“ Dear me !” thought the man who had 
spoken. . “ I shant hear the last of that in a 
hurry. She never forgits nothin.” 

She never did, although she would have 
counted it a mercy to forget much which lay 
in the past She was one who joined the 
temperance society, gladly wishing only that 
such a society had been formed a score of 
years before. Jim Cragin, who was a great 
favorite with Bashy, as Miss Turner was 
called, interrupted her by asking when she 
was coming to make his new clothes. 

“ Next week ; and we’ll have a temperance 
talk when I come,” she answered. 

Yes, ma’am. I’m all ready for that I 
know most all Mr. Safford’s sermon, and Til 


68 


OLD TIMES. 


tell you about my dream. Guess you’ll have 
a good time at our house now. We don’t 
have much scolding, and I guess we shan’t 
have any after this. I’ve found out what 
makes folks cross.” 

Jim was gone, and Bashy started for the 
place she called home, about a mile from the 
village. In her walk, one after another joined 
her, all expressing their opinion of what had 
occurred, some approving, and some disap- 
proving. 

'' I shouldn’t thought Mr. Gibson would 
took such a step without counsel. ’Taint 
accordin to our way of doin things. He 
ought to brought it afore the church, and 
seen what they said. I can’t fellowship sich 
doctrine. ’Taint accordin to Scriptur.” 

'' What aint accordin to Scriptur ?” asked 
Bashy, looking full in the face of the man 
who had thus spoken. 

'' Why, condemin the good things God’s 
given us. Paul told Timothy to take a little 
wine, for his stomach’s sake.” 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


69 


^‘Well, what if he did! Is that any rea- 
son why you men folks should be sloppin 
down liquor from mornin till night, till you’re 
cross as so many Injuns? For my part, I’ve 
seen enough of that, and I guess there’s some- 
thin to folks besides stomachs ; though you’d 
think there wasn’t, to hear so much complainin 
of that member. I’m glad Mr. Gibson didn’t 
go round askin everybody what he’d better 
do. Taint no use talkin forever. Better go 
to work and do somethin.” 

‘‘Well, well, Bashy, I didn’t say nothin agin 
you. You needn’t take it up so. I’m willin 
you should jine the temperance society.” 

“Willin!” she repeated scornfully. “’Taint 
nobody’s business what I do about such 
things. There now, don’t say nothing more 
to provoke me she added. “ I don’t want 
to git all riled up, now I’m goin home to 
rest.” 

“ I’m glad you’re goin to rest a little, 
Bashy remarked an elderly woman walking 
by her side. “Guess you need it. You’ve 


70 


OLD TIMES. 


been to work ever since you was high as a 
hoppin toad.” 

That’s what 1 have, and if it hadn’t been 
for rum I’d had a good mother to keep me 
company; and then ’twouldn’t be hard to 
work. But I aint goin to complain. The 
Lord gives me strength, and I aint beholdin. 
to anybody for a livin.” 

“ That’s what Deacon Cragin’s wife said 
the last time I see her. Says she, Bashy 
Turner aint beholden to nobody. She earns 
all she gits, and more too.” 

Women folks generally do earn mor’n 
they get. I’ve noticed that a good many 
times ;” was the sententious reply. ‘‘ Guess 
Deacon Cragin’s goin to turn over a new 
leaf, and I’m glad of it. I expect, though, 
there’ll be music round Mr. Gibson’s ears 
for a spell.” 

‘‘I’m afraid this afternoon’s work’ll injure 
his influence among us,” now remai*ked one 
of the company. “ He ought to considered.” 

‘‘ l ie’s considered enough responded 


FIRST TEMPERANCE SERMON. 


71 


Bashy. You needn’t say nothin about that. 
Other folks have considered too. I tell you 
we don’t know every thing here in Hardback. 
There’s other towns knows more, and they’ve 
got temperance societies.” 

These are specimens of the comments made 
that evening ; except that in some groups all 
were alike ready to condemn what they had 
seen and heard. 

At the parsonage, Mr. Safford congratulated 
his young brother upon the successful inau- 
guration of the great reform in their midst. 
‘‘You may consider the question now fairly 
settled,” he said. 

“ I am fairly committed,” was the reply. 
“But the battle is yet to be fought, and I shall 
meet the strongest opposition among my own 
church members.’* 

“ Don’t be discouraged. Brother Gibson. 
The Lord is on our side, and sooner or later 
the people must see it. It wont do for the 
watchmen to cry peace, when there is an 
enemy within the camp. I wonder that we 


72 


OLD TIMES. 


have not been roused to battle with this 
enemy before.” 

It is strange ; and stranger still, that so few 
believe what they are told of the extent of this 
evil,” responded Mr. Gibson. ‘‘ It is nearly 
two years since my attention was called to 
this subject. ^ Since then I have improved my 
opportunities for observation, and I am con- 
vinced that the use of alcoholic liquors works 
evil, and that continually. It is my belief that 
more people break down from hard drinking 
than hard work.” 

''There is.no doubt of it,” exclaimed Mr. 
Safford. " I know it to be true ; and we must 
be careful to do our whole duty, that the 
blood of others may not be found upon our 



CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


73 


CHAPTER IV. 

CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 

HERE was a general curiosity in 
regard to Mr. Nichols. Every one 
knew that he had a strong appetite 
for ardent spirits and every body 
knew that, Christian or not, he was sometimes 
partially intoxicated. People did not say just 
this. He was ‘‘ a little fuddled or “ he 
had taken more than was good for him but 
whatever was said, the same fact was ex- 
pressed. 

When his son reached home there sat the 
old man in. an arm-chair, smoking, and wear- 
ing his most forbidding aspect. The boys 
came in, exchanged their Sunday suits for 
working garments, and went to the barn. 
Mother and daughters commenced preparing 



74 


OLD TIMES. 


for supper, while not a word was said of what 
was uppermost in their thoughts. 

Ezra Nichols was very unlike his father, 
having inherited a gentle, loving disposition 
from the mother, who had meekly borne her 
lot of trial and hardship. Yet he could be 
firm and decided when occasion required, 
and where principle was at stake. The sub- 
ject presented that afternoon was one to 
which his attention had been called by Mr. 
Whitney. He listened with interest, and 
accepting the facts, did not hesitate in regard 
to his duty. Of course, the old man com- 
plained of his stomach, and his loneliness ; 
had no appetite for supper, and refused every- 
thing which was offered to him. The boys 
were rather impatient for the explosion, which 
they knew would come, when ^^gransir'^ got 
ready; and their mother watched them closely, 
lest there might be some provocation on 
their part. 

“ What did you do in the town-house, 
Ezry ?” 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


75 


/^Formed a temperance society/' was the 
reply. 

Did anybody jine it?" 

‘‘Yes, sir; more than thirty." 

“Who was they?" asked the old man, in 
great perturbation ; and the names of the 
members were repeated, Joe assisting his 
father to recall them. 

“You say Deacon Cragin jined?" 

“Yes, sir." 

“‘And you, Ezry?" 

“Yes, sir; and Jane, and all the children 
that can write their names. We’re going to 
be a temperate family, and the money’s going 
to buy books instead of liquor." 

“You don’t say you aint goin to buy no 
more spirit, Ezry?" 

^ “ Only what’s needed for medicines.;" and 
his father drew a long breath of relief as 
this was said. 

Presently he commenced what he called 
“ an argooment" against Mr. Safford’s ser- 
mon, in which argument the words “ scrip- 


76 


OLD TIMES. 


tur” and liberty occurred many times. It’s 
a free country,” he reiterated, with trembling 
voice. ‘‘You’ve signed away your liberty. 
I’ve got eenamost through with this world ; 
but while I do live, I should be thankful for 
sich creetur comforts as I need.” 

“ Father, there aint any reason why you 
should talk this way,” said his son. “You 
can have all the spirit you need ; but as for 
me and my house, we’ve done with it.” 

“ Children aginst their parents ! ’Tatnt 
accordin to Scriptur or natur; but ’twas pro- 
phesied to come in the last days. I’m eena- 
most through.” 

“You may live many years yet,” was the 
reply; and here the matter rested for that 
evening. 

Mr. Gibson had “stirred up a hornet’s 
nest,” as Bashy Turner said, and never was 
such buzzing heard in Hardback before. 
One would have supposed that the liberties 
of the people were threatened, so much 
boasting was there of the inalienable rights 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


77 


of man to eat and drink as he pleased. The 
four deacons were especially indignant. 

^‘Mad as hornets,” Bashy said; and she 
had a good opportunity to judge. 

Deacon Flanders invited his three brethren 
and their wives, to drink tea at his house on 
Saturday afternoon, and take counsel together 
upon the alarmin state of things.” Deacon 
Cragin was not included in this invitation; 
although a week previous, his presence would 
have been considered indispensable. 

The state of things was alarming, indeed, 
when four deacons of a Christian church would 
meet for the express purpose of encouraging 
each other in the use of alcoholic liquor. But 
the best laid plans are often defeated, and 
Providence was pleased to send a preacher 
of temperance into their very midst; one to 
whom, of all others, they would feel con- 
strained to listen. 

This preacher, Mrs. Holden, the wife of the 
storekeeper at the corner, was a woman of 
more than ordinary intelligence and energy, 


78 


OLD TIMES. 


and not having been brought up in Hardback, 
had no particular reverence for its faults. 

“ There’s Mrs. Holden sure’s I live,” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Willey, dropping her knitting, 
and going to the window. “ If I’d known she 
was coming I’d put on another gown.” 

** Guess she wasn’t invited,” said Mrs. Camp- 
bell. Leastways, I didn’t hear nothing said 
about it. I’m glad she’s come, though. She’s 
a nice woman, and I want to get her receipt 
for making loaf cake.” 

‘M’m always glad to see her; but I’m 
afraid there’ll be hard words if she stays,” 
said Mrs. Willey. ^Wou know she aint afraid 
to speak her mind, if she’s called on ; and 
she joined the society Wednesday.” 

“ Wonder what her husband said to that,” 
chimed in Mrs. Porter, who had no higher 
thought than to do as ‘Hhe deacon said.” 

“ O, he wouldn’t say any thing,” was the 
reply. There hasn’t been any liquor in 
Holden’s store for two weeks, and I guess 
it’s her doings.” 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


79 


Deacon Flanders and his wife weht to 'the 
door, and notwithstanding the company pre- 
sent, insisted that Mrs. Holden should stop. 
But no sooner was she in the house, than 
she understood her position as an uninvited 
guest in a conclave of anti-temperance dea- 
cons. Decanters and glasses were on the 
kitchen table ; and she was soon aware that 
the ladies had not been omitted in the dis- 
tribution of good things. 

Directly after she was seated in the parlor 
Deacon Flanders offered her a glass of 
wine. 

joined the temperance society Wednes- 
day, and can’t drink liquor of any kind,’' 
said Mrs. Holden, after properly acknow- 
ledging the courtesy. 

‘‘But it’s nothing but wine. Wine never 
hurt any body,” urged the deacon. 

This opened the way for a general conver- 
sation, while knitting-needles clicked a cheer- 
ful accompaniment to animated voices. 

“Well, now, I want to ask you if it’s a fact 


80 


OLD TIMES. 


your husband don’t have no liquor in his 
store?” asked Mr. Flanders. 

’Tis a fact,” answered the storekeeper's 
wife. “ I can tell you how it came about, if 
you'd like to know. It wasn’t any of Mr.' 
Gibson’s work ; so you needn’t blame him.” 

“Whose work was it?” asked Deacon 
Willey. 

“One of our' church members; and there’s 
quite a story to it, if it was all told.” 

“ Let’s hear it, Mrs. Holden,” said Deacon 
Flanders. “ We’ve met to consult on the mat- 
ter of temperance, and we’re willing to hear 
both sides.” 

“Well, you know when my husband is away 
from home I go into the store to wait upon 
customers, and I’m willing to ; but I never 
was willing to deal out liquor. I told my 
husband so, to begin with. I didn’t believe in 
it, and I don’t now, though I did it to please 
him.” 

Poor Mrs. Willey’s knitting-needles clicked 
louder than ever at this, and a long row of 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


81 


stitches was dropped. The deacon cleared 
his throat, but Mrs. Holden proceeded with an 
air which seemed to say, “ Now I’ve began, 
I’m going through — story, comments, and 
all.” 

About two weeks ago Mr. Holden went 
off early in the morning, leaving me to take 
care of the store. I hadn’t more than got 
the dishes done up, after breakfast, before I 
saw one of our church members drive down 
into the mill-yard, and unhitch his horse from 
the wagon, as spry as anybody, though he 
aint very young. He had a boy with him, 
and the first I knew, he came into the store 
all doubled up, with his hand on his stomach, 
complaining of a terrible pain, and wanted me 
to fix him something warm. I was willing to 
do that. If the poor man was sick, he needed 
something; and I fixed it, just as good as I 
could ; and it was good, for I tasted of it. He 
smacked his lips over it, and paid me; and 
then went out to piling over boards. He 
worked steady all the forenoon, front of my 
6 


82 


OLD TIMES. 


kitchen windows, where I could see him, and 
I thought his medicine must have done him 
a heap of good.” 

‘‘I’ve no doubt on’t, Mrs. Holden. There’s 
nothin so good as sperit to warm up the 
stomach.” ' 

“I haint finished my story yet.” 

“Well, Mrs. Holden, we’ll hear the rest.” 

“At noon that man got out his luncheon, 
and he and the boy ate a good hearty dinner. 
Didn’t seem to be any more sick than I am 
now ; but pretty soon he came into the store 
with his hand on his stomach, just as he had 
in the morning and here the narrator of 
the story illustrated it, in a way which con- 
vulsed her hearers with laughter. “ He was 
in dreadful pain, and wanted me to fix him 
up another glass of somethin warmin. What I 
gave him in the mornin went right to the 
seat of his diffikilty, and made him all over. 
Well, I didn’t believe in his sickness any 
more than you would, if you’d been there ; 
but I fixed him a dose, and he drinked it.” 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


83 


Now, do tell us who the man was !” ex- 
claimed Mrs. Flanders. 

No, I shan’t call any names; but I aint 
through with my story yet. That man went 
out and worked all the afternoon straight as 
anybody, though he’d been bent up most 
double when he come into the store. He 
worked till sundown. Then he put his horse 
into the wagon, and turned round, ready to 
start for home, and then came into the store 
and wanted some more bitters. The pain in 
his stomach had come on again, and he 
didn’t feel as though he could get home 
without taking something to relieve him. 
Says he, ‘ Mrs. Holden, you’re the best 
hand to fix up a dose of bitters I ever see;’ 
but I didn’t care any thing about that. I 
didn’t hurrry any about waiting upon him 
either, but he grew sick so fast, I finally give 
him sortiething and he drinked it, though I 
could tell by his looks that he knew I’d left 
out the best of the seasoning. Now Nate 
Barnes and Sam Buffy wouldn’t pretended to 


84 


OLD TIMES. 


be sick if they’d come to me for a dram. 
They’d told the truth, and to my mind that’s 
the best way. That’s what I told my hus- 
band that night ; and I told him, too, that 
I’d never deal out another drop of liquor in 
the store as long as I lived. He had some 
on hand, and he carried it into the cellar. 
That’s how we come to give up having liquor 
in the store.” 

The women of the company looked at Mrs. 
Holden with astonishment, the men, with 
confusion, and for a time nothing was said. 
At length. Deacon Porter broke the silence. 

‘H’m of a mind, Mrs. Holden, that the 
man felt bad when he come to you for some- 
thin warm.” 

I’m of the same mind, deacon. He felt 
bad, just as Nate Barnes does when he wants 
a dram. He hankered after some liquor, as 
Bashy Turner says, and I guess that’s the 
way with most all drinkers.” 

‘‘Why, Mrs. Holden!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Porter, “ I don’t see how you can talk so. 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


85 


Most all our folks take a little spirit, and 
you don’t s’pose it’s cause they like it, do 
you ?” 

“ It’s my opinion they wouldn’t drink it if 
they didn’t like it,” was the reply. Folks 
don’t take what they don’t like three or four 
times every day, unless they’re obliged to.” 

But, Mrs. Holden ” — and here Deacon 
Flanders paused, wiping his forehead with a 
large bandanna handkerchief, which he used 
only on grand occasions — “ seems to me you 
don’t look at this in the right light. We 
mean to be temperate, as our fathers was 
before us. They was good men.” 

“Some of them, deacon. I suppose you 
mean the fathers of the town.” 

“Yes; they’re what I mean.” 

“ But I’ve heard there were drunkards here 
forty years ago.” 

“ There was the Ransoms,” Deacon Camp- 
bell hastened to say. “ They always kept 
liquor in the house, and they was good men.” 

“No doubt of it, deacon. They lived up to 


86 


OLD TIMES. 


the light they had; and if they had lived till 
Wednesday, I’ve no doubt they’d been the 
first to join the temperance society.” 

‘'They want men to take up new things, 
without consjderin,” was the reply. 

“ No more are their sons, but they joined 
the temperance society.” 

Every time Mrs. Holden said “ temperance 
society,” a nervous tremor ran through the 
company ; and yet, as she uttered the most 
disagreeable truths with a smiling face, no 
one could be offended. Speaking frankly, 
if called upon, she did not intrude her 
opinions ; and when the deacons seemed 
inclined to confine the discussion to them- 
selves, she talked of other matters with their 
wives. 

Cases of sickness in different parts of the 
town were now reported, and housekeeping 
experiences compared. Mrs. Campbell ob- 
tained the recipe for making loaf cake, and 
at the tea-table there was such an exchange 
of culinary knov/ledge, that a moderately 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


87 


sized cook-book might have been compiled 
by a listener. 

Supper over, Mrs. Holden took her leave, 
when host, hostess, and invited guests all 
breathed more freely. ‘‘A smart woman,^’ 
said Deacon Flanders, after seeing her started 
homewards. 

^^Yes, she’s all that; but she’s got a -way 
of thinking for herself, that aint quite ac- 
cordin to Scriptur, as I read it.’' 

“There aint a woman in town that tries 
harder to do right than she does,” said Mrs. 
Campbell, moved to speak by this reference 
to Scripture. “ She has the fear of God 
before her eyes, and I’ve heard her husband 
say that if he was ever as good as his wife, 
he should be satisfied. I’m most of her 
mind about drinking, after hearing her talk ; 
and I wish our boys would join the temper- 
ance society. They’d be sure not be drunk- 
ards then,” and the good woman sighed as 
she thought of those who called her mother. 

“You needn’t worry about our boys,’* 


88 


OLD TIMES. 


answered the deacon. “ I’m able to manage 
them. I aint a bit afraid of their being 
drunkards.” 

Yet every one in the company, except him- 
self, knew that his oldest son had been intoxi- 
cated within a week. The pledge might save 
him ; but his father had forbidden his entering 
the town-house on Wednesday. 

‘‘ Mrs. Willey, have you seen she that was 
Loizy Huntoon since she come back to her 
mother’s?” asked Mrs. Flanders, anxious to 
change the subject of conversation. 

** No, I haint,” was the reply. ‘‘ I’ve been 
meanin to go over, but there’s somethin hap- 
pened every day to make me put it off. Have 
you been?” 

‘^Yes; I was there last week.” 

‘‘Well, do tell how she is. I hain’t seen 
nobody but Mrs. Huntoon, and I didn’t want 
to say much to her. She must be feelin 
bad.” 

“ She is ; and Loizy too, though they 
didn’t talk about their troubles.” 


CONFERENCE OF DEACONS. 


89 


Loizy didn’t make out very well gettin 
married,” remarked one of the men. “ Her 
husband is too shiftless to git a livin.” 

‘^That aint the worst of it, though that’s 
bad enough,” said Mrs. Campbell. Her 
husband is a drunkard, and he abused her 
till she couldn’t bear it no longer. I call that 
a warnin against drinkin liquor.” 

“ Mrs. Campbell,” exclaimed her husband, 
‘‘you needn’t have no trouble about liquor, 
I told you I’d manage the boys. I’m able 
to.” 

“ I hope you be,” she answered, without 
looking up from her work. 

There was a prospect of mutiny in the 
camp, and the deacons adjourned to the 
kitchen to see what should be done. The 
children were sent to stay with their mother. 
Decanters and glasses were placed upon the 
table, and after a spirited, and by no means 
dry consultation, it was decided to lose no 
opportunity for opposing a movement which 
threatened the liberties of the people. They 


90 


OLD TIMES. 


knew that alcoholic liquor was one of the gifts 
of God, and if it was sometimes abused, so 
were other gifts. Folks ought to know, them- 
selves, when they’d drinked enough ; and Mr. 
Gibson must be told that he was out of place 
in what he’d done. 

“ Perhaps ’twould be best to visit him,’* 
said one. He don’t know how the people 
feel about it” 



DEACON Campbell’s conversion. 91 


CHAPTER V. 

DEACON CAMPBELL’S CONVERSION. 

HE same Saturday afternoon Dea- 
con Cragin, Ezra Nichols, Mr. Whit- 
ney, four of the Ransoms, and Mr. 
Barrett called at the parsonage to 
assure Mr. Gibson of their support in what- 
ever he might see fit to do for the pro- 
motion of temperance. 

‘‘The first thing to be done is to organize 
a society,” said the clergyman. “ We only 
signed the pledge on Wednesday. There was 
so much opposition that it didn’t seem best 
to take a voice of the meeting as to forming 
a society.” 

“ It wasn’t best,” replied Deacon Cragin. 
“ I could tell that by looking round. But 
there’s enough of us together now to or- 
ganize a society as it ought to be.” 

“Then let us proceed to business,” said one 



92 


OLD TIMES. 


of the Ransoms; and before they separated, 
a constitution had been adopted, and officers 
chosen. Deacon Cragin was president, Mr. 
Whitney, vice-president, and John Ransom 
secretary. 

“ Now we will get those who signed the 
pledge to subscribe to this constitution, and 
then we shall be in good working order,” 
remarked Mr. Gibson. ‘‘We must have a 
meeting of all the members of the society, 
and decide what is best to be done.” 

“ Will you read a notice to-morrow ?” asked 
John Ransom. 

” Certainly,” was the reply. “ I didn^t enter 
this field without counting the cost.” 

Deacon Cragin remained after the other 
gentlemen had left, and when alone with his 
pastor, expressed his gratitude for the re- 
proof, which a few weeks before had been 
so kindly administered. “ I needed it,” he 
said. “ I was a stumbling-block in the way 
of sinners, and a tyrant in my family. I see 
it now; and, Mr. Gibson, 'twas time I give 


DEACON Campbell’s conversion. 


93 


up drinking. I found that out as soon as 
I left off. I missed it, and if I’d gone on, 
I might just been as bad as Sam Buffy or 
Nate Barnes. I drinked more and more all 
the fime.” 

‘‘Yes, deacon, I saw that,” was the reply. 
“ I’ve been looking round, with my eyes wide 
open, the last two years ; and I made up my 
mind that a good many of our church mem- 
bers are hard drinkers.” 

“They are, Mr. Gibson, and we’ve got a 
good many downright drunkards among us. 
My wife and I counted them up yesterday, 
and we made out over forty, young and old.” 

“That is more than I calculated,” res- 
ponded the pastor. 

“ I think we are right,” said Deacon Cra- 
gin. “A good many more too have died 
within ten years. There was Bashy Turner’s 
father, one of the worst there ever was in 
town. That girl knows what ’tis to have a 
hard time. Her father had a good farm, and 
run it through, till he hadn’t a shelter over 


94 


OLD TIMES. 


his head. His wife, poor woman, was all dis- 
couraged with hard work and hard treatment, 
and she died of consumption. She was a 
pitiful object the last of her days ; but she 
was a Christian, and ready to go. She had 
a little rest here too. The neighbors found 
a comfortable room for her and Bashy, where 
Bashy lives now.” 

‘'And who took care of Mr. Turner?” 

“The neighbors, when he wouldn’t work ; 
and after his wife died, Bashy paid his board, 
though she wouldn’t live with him. He 
wanted to keep house, but she was of age, 
and could do as she was a mind to. She went 
to work, and paid back all that was done for 
her mother, -and then took care of her father 
three years. He froze to death at last, and I 
don’t know as anybody was sorry.” 

“ I’ve heard something of that before,” re- 
marked Mr. Gibson. “I noticed Bashy signed 
her name with a will.” 

“She’d be sure to do that. I don’t think 
she’s tasted a drop of liquor this five years.” 


BEACON Campbell’s conversion. 95 

'^Then she has been an exception to the 
general rule.” 

‘'Yes, she has, and there haint anybody- 
talked to her about it either. They knew 
better. Bashy’s able to give a reason for the 
faith that’s in her, and it’s generally a good 
reason too. I depend on her to do more 
for the temperance cause than anybody in 
the town, unless it’s our minister. She goes 
everywhere, and people trust her good sense, 
if her tongue is sharp.” 

A little more talk upon different subjects, 
and Deacon Cragin rose to go, when he asked 
abruptly, “What shall I do, when such a man 
as old Mr. Nichols comes to my house? He 
always expects something to drink.” 

“ Put not the glass to thy neighbor’s lips,” 
said Mr. Gibson; and thus the question was 
answered. 

The next day there was read from the 
pulpit a notice of a meeting of the temperance 
society. All those who had already joined, 
and all who were interested in the cause of 


96 


OLD TIMES. 


temperance, were earnestly invited to meet in 
the school-house of district number one, on 
Wednesday evening, at early candle lighting. 

As none but the initiated dreamed of this, 
there was great surprise among the outsiders. 
Deacon Porter nodded across the aisle to 
Deacon Flanders; and Deacon Willey turned 
quite around in his seat to see what effect 
this announcement had upon his brethren. 
Deacon Campbell, unlike the others, looked 
straight forward, while his face flushed, and 
his hands moved nervously. 

When the services were over. Deacon Flan- 
ders said to him, '^We ought to meet and 
decide on something, and we’d best get 
together somewhere on Wednesday.” 

” I shall be busy then,” was the answer. 
** You’ll have to get along without me.” 

*'Well, can we count on you to help in 
anything we decide on?” 

You can count on me to do what I think’s 
duty;” and saying this, Deacon Campbell 
waited for nothing more. 


DEACON Campbell’s conversion. 97 

Then the three other deacons were in a state 
of greater perplexity than ever. It couldn’t 
be that the very strongest of their number 
would fail them in the hour of need. Some 
one suggested the possibility of a headache ; 
and this was accepted as an excuse for other- 
wise inexplicable conduct. 

Deacon Campbell had passed through a 
sad experience since he left Deacon Flanders, 
the evening before, self-confident and resolute. 
His wife’s thoughts had been so quickened 
by what she had heard, that she resolved in 
some, way to bring her boys into the move- 
ment ; and for that reason she urged her hus- 
band to think seriously before he joined in 
opposing the minister. If Horace should get 
to drinking, as a good many young people 
of his age do, ’twould be a dreadful blow to 
us all.” 

I aint afraid,” the father began to say, 
but pausing, he did say, I hope there aint 
no danger. I never see him the worse for 
liquor; did you, Polly?” 

7 


98 


OLD TIMES. 


Yes, I have,” and these words were 
uttered by the mother with a groan. 

“You must be mistaken.'* 

“No I aint; I wish I was. Other folks 
have seen him so too.” 

“Then I’ll try the effect of a horsewhip 
on him,” exclaimed the deacon, angry that 
his son should be intoxicated. 

“ No, John, don’t do that, if you care any- 
thing for me, or the boy either. You learnt 
him to drink; and if he can’t bear as much 
as you can, whose fault is it ? It’s time for 
you to look to yourself.” 

“ Wife !” 

“ Husband !” 

“I’hi going to rule my own household.” 

“ In the fear of the Lord,” she added. 
“'Ye fathers, provoke not your children to 
wrath.’ Horace wont take a horsewhipping 
from you, and ’taint right he should. You’d 
better pray over this matter, and see what 
light you’ll get from the Lord.” 

It did seem to the deacon that the whole 


DEACON Campbell’s conversion. 99 

order of things was being reversed, and he 
sat silent for a moment; after which, he in- 
dulged in an angry tirade, which it is not 
necessary for me to transcribe. 

You’d better pray over the matter,” his 
wife replied. If Horace is ever made better, 
’twon’t be by drivin, I can tell you that 
and growing bolder, as she realized the danger 
which threatened her first-born, she added : 
^*You ought to set a good example before 
your children. If you’ll give up the use of 
liquor, I guess there won’t be no trouble 
with Horace.” 

Mrs. Campbell, I’ll have a settlement with 
that boy fore I go to bed to-night. So you 
needn’t say no more about it. I understand 
managin boys.” 

They were nearly home, when they passed 
Horace with two young men of the neighbor- 
hood. ” I’ll learn him to keep different com- 
pany,” muttered his father, and driving rapidly, 
he had put his horse in the stable, and was 
waiting at the door when his son came up. 


100 


OLD TIMES. 


“I want you at the barn,” he said. ‘*You 
and I’ve got a job to settle.” 

What is it?” asked Horace, staggering, 
although he had not drank half the quantity 
of liquor which maddened his father. 

'' I’ll tell you when we get there,” and 
wishing to accelerate movements, the deacon 
gave his son a push from the house. 

Horace fell, uttering a cry of pain, and 
the whole family rushed out to learn, the 
cause. 

‘‘Go back,” said Deacon Campbell, “there 
aint nothin the matter;” and the children 
retreated. 

Not so the mother. She bent over her 
son, and by the light of the lantern, saw his 
pale face and motionless form. “You’ve kill.ed 
him!” she cried, in sudden terror. “You’ve 
killed my boy I Go away, and leave me 
alone with him.” Then regaining composure, 
she said, “ Bring me some water, quick, some 
of you children 1” and by this time she had 
pillowed the dear head upon her lap. “ God 


DEACON CAMPBELL’S CONVERSION. 101 

forgive you for this, John Campbell, I never 
will !” 

“Horace! Horace! Speak to me! He 
can’t be dead, Polly. Tell me he aint dead ! 
O God, forgive me, and spare my child 1” 

Water sprinkled upon the face of the pros- 
trate boy caused him to open his eyes, and 
directly, as blood gushed from the wound 
on his head, he became conscious. 

“ Mother !” he murmured. 

“Yes, mother is here,” she answered, in 
the same low tone which had soothed him 
when he scarce could lisp her name. “ Mother 
will take care of you.” 

“O, my dear mother!” and he clasped one 
of her hands between his own. “ My head 
aches, and I’m so dizzy,” 

“ I’ll carry him in,” said Deacon Campbell, 
stooping to raise him from the ground. 

“ No, no !” exclaimed the mother. “You’ve 
done enough. George, you and I’ll carry 
him in. We’ll lay him on the settle; and 
you, Fanny, bring a pillow.” 


102 


OLD TIMES. 


The father was so shocked and stunned 
that he stood aside while this was done. Then 
Mrs. Campbell cut away the matted hair, and 
exposed a cruel gash, cut by the sharp corner 
of a stone. 

''What made it so?” asked the younger 
children, in a whisper. " Is Horace goin to 
die ?” 

" I hope not,” was the reply. " Go to the 
chest and get that roll of linen that’s under 
the till. Bring me some more water too.” 

The door of the east room was opened 
noiselessly, and when it was closed, a man 
knelt within, praying for mercy. " Spare my 
son!” he cried. "Take whatever else thou 
wilt, but spare my son, and make the path 
of duty plain before me.” 

Not once, but many times was this petition 
repeated, until he who prayed dared again 
to meet his family. 

" Hadn’t the children better go to bed, 
wife ?” he asked ; and she, divining his 
thoughts, answered, " I guess ’twould be 


DEACON Campbell’s conversion. 103 

best. Go now, children, and if you’re wanted, 
I’ll call you.” 

Reluctantly, they obeyed, and when all 
were gone Deacon Campbell went to the 
settle on which lay his son. 

‘‘ Horace !” 

Mother!” called the boy, reaching out 
his hand, as if for protection, while an invol- 
untary shudder passed over his frame. Do 
not leave me, mother.” 

No, child, I won’t But your father spoke 
to you.” 

“I know it,” was the reply. 

My son 1 My son I Won’t you speak to 
me ? I’ve been wrong, and I ask your for- 
giveness. Forgive me, my son.” 

Horace Campbell would have been flogged 
to death without shedding a single tear; but 
this completely subdued him, and throwing 
his arms around his father’s neck, he wept 
like a child. 

*'Say you forgive me, my son.” 

** I’m the one to be forgiven,” was the reply. 


104 


OLD TIMES. 


** No ! Say you forgive me/* 

‘^Yes, I do, father; and will you forgive 
me?’* sobbed the boy. 

“ O, yes, Horace, and for time to come, 
we’ll both try and do better than we have.’* 

“I’ll try, father; and mother — where is 
she ?” 

“ Right here,” but the voice which an- 
swered was so choked no one could have 
recognized it. 

“Wife, you’ll forgive me, now Horace has?” 

“Yes, John, and I shouldn’t spoke so. But 
I thought you’d killed him.” 

Only an hour — but in that hour these three 
seemed to have lived a lifetime. 



A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


105 


CHAPTER VI. 

A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 

EDNESDAY evening the school- 
house of district number one was 
filled at an early hour, and judging 
by the number of candles brought 
by those who were here assembled, it was 
intended to throw some light upon the sub- 
ject of temperance. The old-fashioned high 
desk, behind which sat Deacon Cragin, was 
adorned with a brass candlestick, which had 
formed part of his grandmother’s wedding 
outfit. Quaint in its design, it attracted atten- 
tion whenever seen, and this may have been 
one reason why it was used on this occasion. 
The deacon would be sure to have the eyes 
of the young people turned towards him. 

When the house was quite full, he rose and 
asked Mr. Gibson to open the meeting with 



106 


OLD TIMES. 


prayer. After the prayer, George Ransom 
read a report of what was done at the par- 
sonage on Saturday, with the constitution then 
adopted. He also explained the reason why 
a society had not been formally organized at 
the town-house. Mr. Gibson followed with 
some remarks, and then all present were 
invited to come forward and add their names 
to those already enrolled. Of course, those 
who had signed the pledge were ready to 
do this, while several others imitated their 
example. 

During the time there was some confusion, 
caused by the efforts of Deacon Campbell to 
make his way through the crowd in the 
entry. No one expected to see him there. 
It was feared that he had come for the pur- 
pose of opposition, but this fear was soon 
dispelled when, by signing the constitution, 
he committed himself to the new movement. 
Mr. Gibson’s heart gave a bound of joy. 

There were speeches, and some singing, 
although cold water songs were not much 


A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


107 


known among this people. It was a good 
meeting; a long meeting, too, it would be 
considered in these days, yet no one thought 
of its length. 

Deacon Campbell felt called upon to make 
some explanation of his conduct. was 

opposed to any change in our way of livin,” 
he said. didn’t believe Mr. Safford’s ser- 
mon — I don’t mean that, exactly, and I’d best 
tell just as things are, now I’ve begun. I 
I didn’t want to believe it. I thought I could 
manage my own eatin and drinkin without 
any help, and I felt as though our minister 
was meddlin with what didn’t concern him. 
But taint no use talkin about that, you can 
guess near enough how I felt, and I just said 
to myself, I never’ll give up to these new- 
fangled notions. I always had drinked liquor, 
and so had most everybody round me, and 
we’d got along well enough. I quoted Scrip- 
tur, but I quoted all on one side, and I 
didn’t want to hear nothin about the other 
side. I aint goin to make a speech; I didn’t 


108 


OLD TIMES. 


come prepared for that. I only want to tell 
you that there aint but precious little spirit in 
my house, and there wont be no more very 
soon.’' 

Not a very eloquent address, but it had the 
merit of directness, and would have great in- 
fluence. No one knew that the change in 
Deacon Campbell’s feelings had been wrought 
by any peculiar experience. It was under- 
stood that Horace had not been well for 
several days, but no one outside the family 
suspected the cause of his illness. “I’m glad 
it happened just so,” he said to his mother. 
“ Father and I didn’t understand each other 
very well, and if there hadn’t something hap- 
pened we might gone on getting farther apart 
all the time. He don’t seem as he used to.” 

“ I guess he don’t,” was the mother’s reply. 
“We shall all be better for letting liquor 
alone — you and I, as well as he.” 

“Yes, mother. But father might talked to 
me forever about drinking, and I shouldn’t 
cared, as long as he drinked himself” 


A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


109 


You’ll care now, Horace?” 

'‘Yes, mother, I shall. You needn’t worry 
any more about my being a drunkard.” 

This conversation took place while Deacon 
Campbell was at the temperance meeting, and 
it was decided by mother and son that they 
would attend the next meeting. 

“ George is going to sign to-night,” said 
Horace. “He told me so just before he went 
away. Wont folks ^e surprised when they 
know about father? Deacon Flanders wont 
know what to make of it.” 

“I hope Deacon Flanders will follow your 
father’s example.” 

“He wont, mother. You needn’t expect it. 
He says when he puts his foot down it stays 
there, and he likes to be on the contrary side 
anyway. He’ll make trouble for Mr. Gibson 
yet.” 

“Then there’s more reason why we should 
stand by the minister, and help him. I guess 
I’d better ask him and his wife over here next 
week, if you get well.” 


no 


OLD TIMES. 


I shall get well, mother. I feel pretty well 
now, and might gone out to-night without 
hurting me, it father ’d thought so.'' 

He didn't think so, Horace. He wouldn’t 
had you gone for any thing. I never see 
nothin take hold of his feelins as this has." 

“ Don’t talk about it, mother," said the boy. 

I’m glad it happened, but I can’t bear to 
think of it." 

George Campbell went from home with the 
intention of joining the temperance society, 
but most of the people had left the house 
before he entered. 

‘‘ Here, George, we want your name on this 
paper," exclaimed Bashy Turner, who had 
commenced the work of canvassing. 

You can have it, better than not," was the 
reply; ‘‘I’ve been waiting on the doorstep long 
enough." 

“Well, I’m glad you come; and now, Mrs. 
Cragin, I guess we’d better go home, if you’re 
ready. Taint no use waitin for the deacon. 
There’s got to be a good deal of talkin done 


A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


Ill 


before he goes. He’s got hold of Deacon 
Campbell, and they’re both pretty good hands 
to hold on.” 

Mrs. Cragin, Bashy Turner, and several 
other women started off, leaving the men 
to finish the talk and the candles, the last of 
which was just exhausted. 

Having reached home, Bashy and her 
hostess must needs comment upon the events 
of the evening. ‘‘Says I to myself,” when 
Deacon Campbell came in and signed his 
name, “says I to myself, that’s more’n I 
expected. If Deacon Campbell aint the set- 
test man in Hardback, he’s next to it, and 
the one that beats him is Deacon Flanders. 
I don’t expect any thing from him; I can’t, 
in reason, though I hope for the best,” and 
the speaker snapped her shears in a way no 
child would have dared to imitate. 

“We’ll all hope for the best,” replied Mrs. 
Cragin, in whose face there shone something 
of the light which had illumined it in her 
girlhood. 


112 


OLD TIMES. 


Presently the boys came in, and after Jim 
had explained the cause of their delay, much 
to the confusion of his eldest brother, they 
went up stairs. Mary, a girl of ten, who had 
been left in charge of the children younger 
than herself, hurried to bed, that she might 
be up early the next morning. 

‘^Who'd believed, a fortnight ago, that old 
Hardback would see such times as these!’* 
exclaimed Bashy. ‘H want to get a chance 
to see Ezry Nichols’ wife. I’m afraid she’ll 
have a hard time with the old man, though 
she’ll stand her ground as well as anybody. 
I’ve wondered a good many times, when I’ve 
been there, if old folks need to look as bad 
as he does, and I’ve found out, now, to my 
satisfaction. It’s the liquor and tobacker 
makes them look so. There’s old Mrs. Jones, 
she’ll just match Grandsir Nichols. She snuffs 
and he chews, and they both smoke. Well, 
I’m glad I don’t take snuff, though folks say 
old maids commonly do.” 

‘‘ I’m glad you don’t,” responded Mrs. Cra- 


A TEMPERANCE MEETIxVG. 


113 


gin ; “ everybody knows that you’re a clean, 
neat woman.” 

'' I mean to be,” was the reply. My 
mother used to say that cleanliness was next 
to godliness, and most folks that has the last 
has the first, though ’taint always so. I never 
was handsome, but I mean to be wholesome. 
There, Mrs. Cragin, to change the subject, as 
Mrs. Holden says, I got things pretty much 
mixed up in my mind when I was in meetin, 
and I thought of somethin that’ll make the 
deacon a good jacket.” 

''What is it, Bashy?” 

" The long tails of his butternut-colored 
coat.” 

Mrs. Cragin laughed heartily at the very 
idea, for this coat had been made more than 
twenty years before. 

"You needn’t laugh, Mrs. Cragin,” said 
Bashy, shaking her head wisely. ‘Tve made 
jackets out of more unlikely lookin things 
than that coat was, the last time I see it. 
Mrs. Barrett could tell you ; and though 
8 


114 


OLD TIMES. 


there’s enough of everything here, ’taint right 
to be wasteful.” 

“ I know it, but Jim thought that coat ought 
to be saved for a scarecrow.” 

^'Well, I’ll see about it in the mornin. 
’Twill take some piecin, but I know how 
to do that.” 

The coat was examined next morning, and 
in its presence the jacket vanished. 

“There’s some good pieces though,” said 
Bashy. “Just what I wanted when I w^as to 
Mrs. Barrett’s.” 

“You can have them for Mrs. Barrett.” 

“Then I’ll take them^ Mrs. Cragin, and 
she’ll be thankful enough. They have a hard 
time to make buckle and strap meet at the 
end of the year. It will be easier now though, 
since he won’t drink liquor.” 

“ He never drinked a great deal, Bashy.” 

“ He drinked enough to make a difference 
in the cost ot livin, and enough to make 
him cross too sometimes.” 

“ Men think liquor does them good.” 


A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


115 


** I know they say so ; and I don’t want 
to say they lie, though I know they do. I’ve 
been round enough to see that. Most of the 
men are cross as bears when they’re in liquor, 
and their wives go runnin round to wait on 
the sots, scared most to death. I tell you, 
Bashy Turner wouldn’t do that, and ’taint the 
way the Lord meant a woman to do.” 

Deacon Cragin, overhearing this remark, 
winced, but wisely held his peace until moved 
by a sudden impulse, he exclaimed : 

“ Bashy, I don’t believe we could do any 
better than to get you to give us a temperance 
lecture.” ^ 

“ Deacon !” and she looked at him with 
flashing eyes, suppose you say that, be- 

cause I talk so much about drinkin. But you 
just be knocked round by a drunkard as I 
was, and see your mother killed by inches, 
as I did, and see whether you’d talk !” Here 
the speaker’s voice was choked with sobs. 

“Bashy Turner, I don’t blame you a bit,” 
said Deacon Cragin, going towards her. “ I 


116 


OLD TIMES. 


spoke in earnest, because I really think you 
could talk more to the purpose than any 
of us men. I hope you don’t think I meant 
different from what I said.” 

I did think so,” w^as the reply. “ I know 
I talk a good deal about drinkin, and folks 
don’t like it.” 

Talk on, Bashy, I’m glad for every word 
you say about it. You’ve had a chance to 
see what’s going on in Hardback.” 

I guess I have, deacon. I could tell some 
stories that would open folks’ eyes. It’s 
time somethin was done, and Mr. Gibson 
knew it a good while ago. There’s women 
and children in this town that don’t have a 
real good meal of victuals once a week, and 
all because of liquor.” 

“ I don’t doubt it, Bashy. It’s a terrible state 
of things, though I never thought any thing 
about it till lately. We’ve got to have a hard 
pull here. There’s some in the church that 
never’U come into the new movement. I am 
goin to do all I can to help Mr. Gibson, but 


A TEMPERANCE MEETING. 


117 


he’s got a hard row to hoe. Folks didn’t look 
at him last Sunday as they always have before.” 

“Hardback aint the only place in the 
world,” was responded. “ He can find places 
enough to go to, if our folks don’t do their 
duty. And there’s Mrs. Gibson, as good a 
woman as you can find anywhere. She’ll help 
her husband. She knows how, and he thinks 
every thing of her. There aint no orderin 
round in that house. I’ve been there enough 
to know that, though Mrs. Gibson manages 
every thing herself” 

“I’ve a high opinion of Mrs. Gibson,” said 
Deacon Cragin. “ I hope there wont be a 
division in the church, but I must say it looks 
like it.” 

“Well, Deacon, don’t say a word about it 
out round. We must act as though we ex- 
pected everybody to do right, and then per- 
haps they’ll be ashamed not to.” 


118 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A VISITATION. 

SHAMED! Hardback people were 
never ashamed to oppose an inno- 
vation. Indeed, they rather gloried 
in so doing, and now that their liber- 
ties were threatened, they surely would not 
prove recreant. Yet Deacon Campbell’s de- 
fection was a sore trial to the party with which 
at first he had identified himself. Before noon 
on Thursday, it was known throughout the 
town that he signed the ‘^constitootion ” of the 
temperance society and made a speech in its 
favor. 

‘H never knew Brother Campbell to be guilty 
of double dealin before,” said Deacon Porter, 
who had been so much agitated by the news 
that he left his work and rode over to see 
Deacon Flanders. “He said we might depend 
on him to do his duty, and I did depend on 




A VISITATION. 


119 


him. But we’ve been deceived. He aint the 
man I thought he was.” 

No, he aint, deacon,” was the reply. 
*^What do you think of callin him to account 
for what he said Sunday ? A man that pro- 
fesses what he does, ought to keep his word. 
I thought ’twas best to put off our meetin till 
he wasn’t busy, but he had time to go to the 
temperance meetin.” 

Can’t you ride over to see him this mornin, 
Deacon Flanders ? We don’t ought to neglect 
the spiritooal interests of the town.” 

I know that, but I’ve a good many chores 
to do this forenoon, and I promised Mrs. Flan- 
ders I’d go over to her mother’s with her 
this afternoon.” 

“ But we’re bound to look after the spirit- 
ooal interests of them over whom we’re set,” 
urged Deacon Flanders ; and this considera- 
tion was so enforced by the spirit poured from 
a well filled decanter, that chores and promises 
were forgotten. 

“Mother, there’s Deacon Flanders and Dea- 


120 


OLD TIMES. 


con Porter coming through the gull/' said 
Horace Campbell, who was sitting by a win- 
dow which commanded a view of the road 
for a quarter of a mile. They’re coming to 
take up a labor with father.” 

I shouldn’t think a mite strange,” replied 
Mrs. Campbell. “Your father won’t want to 
stop to talk this mornin, he’s got so much 
to do.” 

know it, mother, and he ought to let 
me help him. He don’t allow me to work 
or read, and sitting round here is dull busi- 
ness. I’m quite well enough now to do 
something.” 

“Your father knows best about that, 
Horace, and you needn’t be afraid to trust 
him.” 

“But I know just how much has got to 
be done, and I wouldn’t miss going to school 
this winter for a farm.” 

“You won’t miss it, Horace. Y.ou’ll go 
every day, for all the work, if you want to.” 

“Want to, mother! If I could only have 


A VISITATION. 


121 


a chance to study, I’d try to be somebody. 
I used to think I would, at any rate/' 

Deacon Campbell, who was at work near 
the road, met his visitors cordially. ** Fine 
day,” he said, looking up to the sun. “ I 
thought we wasn’t likely to have much such 
weather, so I’ve been fixing up my sheep 
pens. It’s good economy to give cattle and 
sheep warm quarters.” 

‘‘That’s true,” replied Deacon Flanders, 
who had employed himself the last ten 
minutes in arranging a speech of reproof for 
his recreant brother. “You told us Sunday 
you was busy.” 

“Yes, it’s a busy season for me, and Horace 
haint been very well this week, so I need to 
do work enough for two.” 

“ ’Taint no use beatin round the bush now,” 
said Deacon Porter, impatient to come to the 
business in hand. “ We calkerlated to have a 
meetin Saturday, and expected you’d come. ” 
“ What kind of a meetin ?” asked Deacon 
Campbell. 


122 


OLD TIxMES. 


‘‘A meetin to see what’s best to do about 
this new movement.’* 

There was such a meetin last night. I 
didn’t see neither of you there.” 

''That was a meetin of the temperance 
society,” remarked Deacon Flanders, with 
a great effort to be dignified. 

"Yes, and a good meetin ’twas too. Just 
drive along up to the house, and we’ll talk 
it over. I want you to see this matter just 
as ’tis.” 

" We see it plain enough now,” was the 
reply. " But we thought ’twas our dooty 
to come and talk a little with you, and if 
you aint too busy, we’ll go up to the house 
a spell.” 

Horace informed his mother of their ap^ 
proach, and she hastened to put her kitchen 
in order, but her husband thought it was best 
to have a fire in the front room. 

" We’ve got some business to talk over, 
and might be in your way, while you’re 
getting dinner,” he said. " Guess we’ll have 


A VISITATION. 


123 


dinner in good season;” which remark was 
understood. 

There was the usual cupboard by the chim- 
ney in the front room, and through the glass 
door might be seen Mrs. Campbell’s “ best 
set of dishes,” but no decanter was there. 
The guests, observing this, concluded that 
they should have a dry time. Yet they had 
‘‘ a dooty ” to perform, and Deacon Porter 
expressed his great sorrow at losing the 
influence of the brother in whom they had 
placed so much confidence. “ I don’t see 
how you can see your way clear,” he re- 
marked. 

I see it by the new light,” was the an- 
swer. “ I see that I’ve been doin wrong 
all these years, and I’m now tryin to do 
better.” 

“But, Deacon Campbell, you don’t call it 
wrong to take a little liquor once in a while, 
do you ?” 

“ I do, now. It’s either right or wrong, 
there aint no middle ground. Look round on 


124 


OLD TIMES. 


the drunkards in town, and see what drinkin 
leads to.” 

“ There aint many drunkards in town,” said 
Deacon Flanders. 

“What do you mean by a drunkard ?” said 
his host. 

“ A man that gets drunk, of course.” 

“How drunk?” 

“ Well,” — there was some hesitation — “ so 
drunk he don’t know what he’s about.” 

“Dead drunk, you mean?” 

“ Why no, not exactly. When he’s the 
worse for liquor.” 

“ Do you mean when he behaves worse 
than he would if he hadn’t been drinking 
liquor, he’s drunk ?” 

“ Seems to me you ask a good many ques- 
tions,” remarked Deacon Porter. 

“Yes, but you know we’re trying to get at 
the truth. A good deal depends upon what 
we mean by drunk,” and the last question was 
repeated. 

“Why, yes; I suppose a man’s some drunk 


A VISITATION. 


125 


then. But we don’t no how belong to that 
class, deacon. We don’t believe in gettin 
drunk.” 

% 

I’m afraid I did belong to that class.” 

“ Why, Brother Campbell, don’t slander 
yourself so. ’Taint likely a deacon of our 
church would get drunk.” 

” But I’ve behaved worse a good many 
times, than I should if I’d let liquor alone. 
I’ve scolded my children, and found fault with 
my wife when I’d no business to. I’ve been 
domineerin and snappish when I ought to 
have been pleasant, and I’ve spent money 
for liquor when it ought to have gone into the 
treasury of the Lord.” 

There was an awkward silence. Deacon 
Flanders flourished his bandanna and looked 
annoyed, while Deacon Porter seemed to be in 
a brown study. Such a confession as that to 
which they had listened was virtually an accu- 
sation, and they were ill at ease. 

“ You talk strangely. Deacon Campbell. 
You’ve always been an exemplary man.” 


126 


OLD TIMES. 


I used to think I was, but IVe been led to 
see my own wickedness.” 

“We heard you signed the constitootion of 
the temperance society last night.” 

“ I did, and am enlisted heart and hand in 
the cause. We’re goin to have a meetin at 
the school-house once a fortnight, and I hope 
you’ll come in.” 

“ We shan’t,” answered Deacon Flanders. 
^^We aint goin to sign away our liberties and 
have folks tell us what we can’t drink. I’m 
astonished that you’re willin to put yourself 
under such bonds.” 

“What kind of bonds?” 

“Well, promises — if that, suits you any 
better. You promised not to drink any in- 
toxicating liquor, didn’t you ?” 

“Yes, I did, and set my name to it. I wont 
drink, nor give it to anybody else. My family 
shan’t drink, if I can help it, and I’ll do my 
best to make my boys temperance men. If 
they turn out like Ben Welcome, it shan’t be 
my fault.” 


A VISITATION. 


127 


Brother Welcome tried to bring his boy 
up right,” said Deacon Porter. 

“He made the same mistake the rest of us 
have been making,” was the reply; “he 
brought him up to drink liquor.” 

“ Well, what if he did ?” asked Deacon 
Flanders, sharply. “ The boy ought to know 
enough not to drink too much.” 

“You remember what Mr. Safford said 
about that, don’t you ?” 

“No, I didn’t pay much attention to that 
sermon.” 

“It’s my opinion you ought to. He said 
some folks couldn’t drink moderately; after 
they got a taste, for liquor they couldn’t let 
it alone.” 

“ I don’t believe that, if Mr. Safford did say 
it Because a man drinks once in a while, 
it’s no sign he can’t leave off when he’s a 
mind to. I could leave oft' any day, if I 
wanted to.’^ 

“You could; but you’d find it pretty hard 
Work if you’re any like me,” said Deacon 


128 


OLD TIMES. 


Campbell; you’d find out that you drinked 
liquor because you wanted it” 

“ I drink it because I need it,” responded 
Deacon Porter; “I couldn’t get along, and 
do my work without it. If it wasn’t for that, 
I could give it up any day.” 

*^And not have any hankerin for it?” 

“Well, I suppose I should miss it, just as 
we do any thing we get used to.” 

“I suppose you would, deacon ; at any rate, 
I do. It’s hard work for me to deny the flesh 
and the devil. Wont you both try this new 
kind of temperance a month? Look round 
among the folks you know, and see if ’taint 
the best thing for us all. A good many of 
our young men bid fair to be drunkards, 
unless they take a new turn. Ben Welcome 
aint the only one.” 

“Have your boys joined the society?” 

“ George has joined, and Horace will the 
next meeting. He needs to, and now I’ve 
set him the example, he’ll be ready to. I 
liaint drinked a drop of liquor since I was 


A VISITATION. 


129 


at your house, Saturday. I took too much 
then. I’ve thought a good deal of what Mrs. 
Holden said, and accordin to my mind, that 
church member that went to her three times 
for liquor, comes pretty nigh bein a drunkard.’* 
‘‘ Have you any idea who ’twas ?” asked 
Deacon Flanders. “ I can’t think of anybody 
that would be likely to do so, though I sup- 
pose Mrs. Holden, told the truth.” 

I have given enough of this conversation 
to show that the self-appointed committee of 
remonstrance were by no means so severe as 
they had intended. Deacon Campbell was 
not accused of double-dealing, although it is 
possible that he might have been but for the 
announcement of dinner. 

“ I’d no idee ’twas so late said both visit- 
ors. We’ve hendered you too long.” 

‘‘ O, no,” was the reply. ‘‘ I shall work 
all the faster this afternoon, and you’ll go 
home feelin better for some warm dinner. 
I guess wife has got somethin that will 
relish.” 

a 


130 


OLD TIMES. 


The gentlemen could not well refuse the 
cordial invitation to dinner, and whatever 
discomfiture they may have felt, it certainly 
did not affect their appetite. 

“ Fm glad they’re gone,” exclaimed Horace, 
wonder if they feel any better satisfied.” 

“ I guess not,” replied Fanny. I heard 
one of them say, ' We’re sorry you act against 
us, deacon ;’ and father said, ‘ The temperance 
folks can count on me to the end of the 
chapter.’ ” 

“ Good for father. I used to know he 
drinked too much. I guess we shan’t have 
any more trouble.” 

At Deacon Cragin’s they were on the look- 
out to see the two deacons going towards 
home, and when Jim cried, They’re coming,” 
Bashy Turner stationed herself where she 
could see their faces as they passed. 

They’re beat,” she said. Deacon Flan- 
ders’ head’s on one side, and Deacon Porter 
sets up straight as a ramrod. They didn’t 
get no comfort at Deacon Campbell’s. But, 


A VISITATION. 


131 


O dear! they’ll make trouble for Mr. Gib- 
son.” 

So said every one; some with a smile of 
satisfaction, and some with a sigh of regret. 
Some pitied and some blamed; while a few 
brave souls, throwing off the bondage of a 
sinful and foolish custom, were ready to sus- 
tain their pastor in the face of all opposition. 
Perhaps, in all Hardback, there was not an 
in4ividual but had heard the subject of tem- 
perance discussed, since Mr. Safford had so 
eloquently urged the people to do themselves 
no harm. From the pretentious dwelling of 
Mr. Welcome, who was considered the richest 
man in town, to the log house which fur- 
nished a home to Aunt Betty Glines and her 
fatherless boy, this had been the topic of con- 
versation. 

Mr. Welcome, now approaching old age, 
mourned the recklessness and dissipation of 
the Benjamin of his flock. Mrs. Glines 
looked back to a married life, the record 
of which was all blotted with tears. A 


132 


OLD TIMES. 


drunken husband, children enfeebled by her 
own hardships, six short graves in the 
old burial ground, and at length a death- 
given release from him who had cursed 
her life. 

One boy remained to her, and him she 
called Samuel, trusting that the Lord would 
hear her prayers in his behalf Living upon 
the coarsest fare, and careful to obey his 
mother in all things, he had reached the 
age of ten years, a stout, sturdy, honest 
little fellow. It was generally thought among 
the farmers that Betty was very foolish to 
slave herself as she did, when Sam might be 
bound out to earn his own living. But she, 
knowing by experience the lot of a bound 
child, determined to keep him with her at 
all costs. She would hot even allow him 
to work for the farmers, lest persuasion and 
example might counteract the influence of 
her teachings, and he learn the use of intoxi- 
cating drink. 

On the small patch of ground which she 


A VISITATION. 


133 


owned, with the house, they raised pota- 
toes, and often these, roasted in the ashes, 
and eaten with salt, were their only supper. 
Yet she did not complain. She would 
have starved rather than give the care oT 
him to another, and he was satisfied to 
trust her; although he looked forward to 
the time when he should be able to work 
and have a home very unlike the rough 
log house. 

'^You shan’t spin nor weave then,” he 
would say. We’ll burn up the wheel and 
the loom.” 

No, Samuel, we’ll keep them always. 
They’ve been good friends, and the day 
never’ll come when we can afford to burn 
them.” 

This woman spun, wove, or knit, with 
untiring industry, but only to aid the sick 
could she be persuaded to leave home for 
a single night. In summer she dwelt amid 
Nature’s choicest beauties, but in winter, 
when the snow lay deep around, she seemed 


134 


OLD TIMES. 


almost shut out from the world. Her nearest 
neighbor was a quarter of a mile distant, 
and never did the morning dawn, but he 
looked to see if there was a smoke from 
A^int Betty’s chimney. 

As her work was always well done, she was 
sure of a constant supply, and often a light 
gleamed through the small windows of her 
house long after the usual hour for retiring. 
Charity she would not accept. For every 
thing, new or old, she rendered a fair equiva- 
lent. Living in so retired and humble a way, 
she had few especial friends. People came 
and went, speaking kindly, sometimes pity- 
ingly; but of all these, Bashy Turner was 
her only confidant. From this friend she 
heard the principal points of Mr. Safford’s 
sermon, and learned of the excitement it 
had produced. 

I wish I’d gone,” said Mrs. Glines. ** I 
would, if I’d known what ’twas goin to be, 
and spun’ nights to make up, though every 
body’s in a hurry. I never had so many 


A VISITATION. 


135 


rolls in the house this time of year. Wool’s 
low, and folks think it’s a good time to have 
cloth and blankets made up. I’m most tired 
workin so stiddy, and I’m afraid I shant git 
Samuel’s clothes made after all.” 

‘‘You needn’t worry a mite about that,” 
responded Bashy. “You only git the cloth 
ready for the shears, and I’ll see it’s well 
made up.” 

“And I’ll see you’re paid some way.” 

“Don’t say a word about payin, Mrs. 
Glines. I calkerlate to give away a week’s 
work in the course of a year, and this year 
I’m goin to give it to you. ’Taint nobody’s 
business but yours and mine, and if you 
can’t be satisfied no other way, you can 
do some spinnin for me some time. I come 
to let you know what’s goin on. We’re 
all engaged, and I knew you’d want to 
hear.” 

“Thank you, kindly, Bashy. I know you 
are busy.” 

“Busy as I can be. But says I to Mrs. 


136 


OLD TIMES. 


Cragin, I must see Aunt Betty, and I’ll make 
up the time. There’s goin to be a meetin 
at the school-house Wednesday night, and I 
wish you’d come.” 



THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


187 


CHAPTER VIIL 

THE LEAVEN WORKING. 

IS. GLINES was not able to attend 
the temperance meeting, but Samuel 
was present, and crowding into the 
smallest possible space, heard and 
saw all that transpired. “ O mother ! I wish 
you’d been there, and heard them talk,” 
he exclaimed on his return. 

What did they say ?” asked the poor 
woman. 

I can’t tell all, but I know what Deacon 
Cragin said,” replied her son ; and with ready 
words he repeated much of what he had 
heard. I wanted to sign the paper with the 
rest, and I had a good mind to ask the minis- 
ter if I couldn’t print my name. Wont you 
ask him next time he comes here?” 

'H’ll see about it,” was Mrs. Glines’ answer 
to this question. “ It’s time now to go to bed, 



138 


OLD TIMES. 


SO you can get up early in the morning. I 
want you to go to the village and get some 
red-wood.” 

Then I’ll go to bed any time, but I don’t 
believe I shall sleep a wdnk, I’ve got too much 
to think of. • I want to learn to write my 
name, and I could, if I had some paper and 
something to look at. I’ve got some quills, 
and I could use some of your black dye for 
ink. Don’t you believe Mr. Gibson would 
write my name, so I could look at it.” 

Perhaps so, but he’s got a good deal to 
do, and little boys like you hadn’t ought to 
trouble the minister.” 

But he always speaks to me, mother, just 
as though he wanted to; and he told me last 
summer that I’d be a good scholar if I kept 
on.” 

I hope you’ll be a good man, that the Lord 
will bless. Take your Testament and read.” 

So Samuel read a few verses, the mother 
prayed, and the boy lay down upon his hard 
bed. Long after this the wheel hummed, 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


139 


while the spinner paced to and fro, but she 
watched alone. The sleep of childhood is 
sweet, and with the morning comes a fresh- 
ness and buoyancy which only such repose 
can give. 

Mrs. Glines did not wake until a fire crackled 
on the old stone hearth, and kettles swung 
from the crane. Through the half-open door 
she watched Samuel — as she always called her 
son, although every one else shortened his 
name — sweep, draw out the table, and then 
look round in some perplexity. 

ril be there in a minute,” she said, and was 
answered by a shout which was in itself in- 
spiring. ‘‘We’ll have a good breakfast this 
morning.” Pork, potatoes, and corn bread, 
with a cup . of weak tea for the mother, fur- 
nished a luxurious repast. 

“Now I could walk forty miles, just as well 
as not,” exclaimed Sam, when his appetite was 
satisfied. “ I wish — ” but here he was inter- 
rupted by the admonition, “ Don’t wish for 
what the Lord don’t see fit to give you ; ’taint 


140 


OLD TIMES. 


right. We ought to be contented with our 
lot and yet this woman’s whole life had been 
a struggle to rise above her surroundings. 

Sam started for the village, fully impressed 
with the importance of his business. 

“ Don’t get into bad company, my boy.’' 

‘‘No, mother;” and she heard his cheery 
whistle, long after he was out of sight. 

In his walk he encountered Jim Cragin, 
who asked why he didn’t put his name down 
on the paper with the rest. 

“ Because I can’t write my name ; if I could, 
I should,” he answered, frankly. 

“ Why don’t you learn ?” 

“I’m goin to, this winter; and I’d learn 
right off, if anybody would make a copy for 
me, and I had a piece of paper. I had most 
a good mind to ask Mr. Gibson.” 

“ Well, ask him ; he’ll be glad to have you.” 

“ But he’s a minister.” 

“ What if he is ? He’s a man, just the same, 
and I aint a bit afraid of him. Bashy says 
he likes boys and girls, and she knows.” 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


141 


Sam trudged on, revolving this advice in 
hi's mind, and hoping he should meet the 
minister. He walked by the parsonage very 
slowly, looking at every window ; then turn- 
ing, walked back again, and was passing for 
the third time, when Mrs. Gibson, who had 
observed his movements, appeared at the 
door. 

“ Good morning, Sam,” she said, pleasantly. 
‘‘Wont you come in and rest awhile? You 
must be tired, if you’ve walked all the way 
from home.” 

He was very glad to accept this invitation, 
and soon he told the kind lady of his great 
desire to learn to write his name. 

“ I can help you in that,” she replied, and 
presently Sam Glines found himself the pos- 
sessor of a neatly made blank book, upon 
the top of each page of which was his name, 
written in clear, bold letters. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, while his 
face glowed, and his eyes sparkled. “ I’ll try 
and pay you, some time,” he added, betraying 


142 


OLD TIMES. 


the independent spirit his mother had so care- 
fully fostered. 

That afternoon, when the boy was making 
his first experiment in writing, Mr. Gibson 
rode up to the door of his mother’s poor 
house. She was very much confused at such 
an arrival, for although she was never omitted 
in the yearly round, she saw little of her pas- 
tor except in the pulpit. And it is a signifi- 
cant fact, that the only liquor she had in 
the house, after her husband’s death, had been 
reserved for the minister. The last drop was 
given to Mr. Gibson, when he called six 
months before, and now she could offer him 
but a cup of tea without cream. In her sim- 
plicity and confusion she told him this. 

I only want a drink of water from your 
spring,” he answered, smiling; and Sam went 
out for this. 

While he was gone, Mr. Gibson improved 
the opportunity to ask Mrs. Glines what she 
proposed to do for him as he grew older. 

** I can’t do much more,” she replied. 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


143 


** I can’t earn enough for us both much 
longer.” 

“ Boys of his age, about here, are expected 
to earn their own living,” remarked the visitor. 

know it, and there’s been places offered 
to my boy, but I couldn’t let him go — I 
wouldn’t have him learn to be a drunkard; 
I’d rather he’d die.” 

‘‘And that is why you have kept him at 
home?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Not a place in all Hardback where this 
poor woman dared to trust her boy ! Were 
the old days better than are the new? How 
people would have sneered at Betty Glines’ 
scruples ! Not so, her pastor. She had been 
wiser than he, in recognizing the power of ex- 
ample; and I doubt if, of all who urged him to 
labor for the cause of temperance, any one had 
greater influence than this same poor woman. 

“ I can’t help you, except with my prayers,” 
she said. “ But you’ll have them, and the 
Lord is on your side.” 


144 


OLD TIMES. 


Sam came back from the spring, and having 
drank of the clear, cold water, Mr. Gibson 
asked how he succeeded in trying to write. 

‘'Not very well,” was the reply. "I can’t 
make a pen.” 

" I thought you’d have trouble. Bring me 
your quills, and I’ll make some pens.” The 
pens were made, and some ink produced. " I 
brought this for you, and now let me show 
you how to hold your pen.” 

Mrs. Glines looked on, grateful and happy. 
Proud too, was she, when assured that her boy 
would soon be able to write his own name and 
join the temperance society. 

" Go to school this winter and next spring. 
I will see what I can do for you. I am sure 
you would like to help your mother.” 

“ Yes, sir, I should. I want to take care of 
her, so she wont have to work a bit. I’m 
goin to study just as hard as I can.” 

‘•'That’s right. You’ll be sure to learn, if 
you do.” 

'• Aint he good!” exclaimed Sam, so loudly 


THE ^EAVEN WORKING. 


145 


that he could not fail to be heard by the 
clergyman, to whom these three words were 
a song of thanksgiving. 

He called at Deacon Cragin's, and there 
received a most cordial welcome. Bashy was 
particularly glad to see him, and with her 
usual good sense, made some practical sug- 
gestions for carrying on the temperance 
campaign. 

‘‘You’d stir up a good deal of opposition,’' 
said the deacon. 

“ I know it, but there’ll be opposition any 
way; ’taint no use makin a fuss for nothin, 
and folks respect them that aint afraid. 
There’s been drinkin enough in our church. 
I’ve heard old drunkards talk about it, and I 
bless the Lord that I’ve lived to see this day.” 

Having thus expressed her feelings, Bashy 
turned to her work and said no more ; although 
her animated face showed that she was no 
indifferent listener to the conversation that 
followed. 

Meanwhile the anti-temperance party were 
10 


146 OLD TIMES. 

not idle. Deacon Flanders and Deacon Porter 
visited from house to house, among those 
who were supposed to be in sympathy with 
them. There was a great deal of boasting, 
loud talking of liberty, and predictions of 
trouble. ‘‘’Taint accordin to Scriptur,” said 
many an old reader of the Bible, with whom 
St. Paul’s injun’ction to Timothy far outweighed 
the teachings of the Old Testament. They 
knew of no wine save that which intoxicates, 
and believed that our Saviour had sanctioned 
its use. Bashy said, “ They held forth on 
Scriptur, while anybody with half an eye could 
see that natur was at the bottom.” 

It is doubtful if ever before, so much 
liquor was drank with such sanctimonious 
faces. If those who indulged did not give 
thanks, they certainly smacked their lips with 
becoming earnestness. Old men, trembling 
on the brink of the grave, with young men 
in the strength and glory of their lives, were 
ready to resist the innovation. And yet the 
visitors were not altogether satisfied. Some 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


147 


people were thinking seriously as they strug- 
gled against the conviction that there was 
need of reform. - 

“ Well, brother, I’ll see you again about 
this,” remarked Deacon Porter, while his 
companion was, with great difficulty, getting 
out of the wagon. We’ve had a hard day’s 
work, and I feel it ; but I trust* it’s been f^r 
the spiritooal good of some.” 

Poor deluded man ! Yet at this particular 
time he was excusable, for his brain was in 
a sad state of confusion. An hour after he 
parted with Deacon Flanders, Ezra. Nichols 
saw his horse and wagon standing under the 
wide-spreading branches of an old elm, by 
the road-side. 

‘'Halloo! What’s the matter?” There 
was no response, and Mr, Nichols sprang 
from his horse. Going nearer, he exclaimed, 
“ Who is here ? What does this mean ?” and 
presently he saw the figure of a man half 
reclining upon the broad seat. "Anybody 
hurt?” Now he touched the man, and by 


148 


OLD TIMES. 


his voice, recognized Deacon Porter. You 
hurt, deacon 

Guess not. Seems to me though, there's 
somethin the matter with my head," stam- 
mered the benighted man. “ I was goin 
home." 

‘‘You won’t get there very soon, at this 
rate. You’d better take the reins and drive 
on. Let me turn your horse into the road," 
he said, suiting the action to the word. 
“Want any more help?" 

“ No ; I’m much obliged to you though, 
for what you’ve done. I don’t know nothin 
what made the old mare stop." 

Ezra Nichols understood the matter, and 
if Deacon Porter had taken the trouble to 
look behind him, he would have seen that 
he was followed, until he reached his own 
door. A poor boy, living with him, learned 
a lesson that night, while at least one member 
of Deacon Flanders’ family questioned the 
propriety of so much drinking. 

There were no more “ spiritooal " visita- 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


149 


tions that week. It was observed when the 
deacons met the next Sabbath morning that 
their greetings were less fraternal, while at 
noon there was no private consultation be- 
tween them. 

The people, generally, gathered in groups 
to talk temperance; its friends sanguine, its 
enemies bitter. 

‘‘ I expected to hear somethin about it in 
the sermon,” said one. 

‘‘ Why should you ?” asked another. ** Mr. 
Gibson don’t harp on one string all the time. 
He aint a man of one idea. We’ve had an 
excellent sermon, and I hope we shall re- 
member it. I’m sorry there were so few to 
hear it.” 

“ Well, I suppose you know the reason. 
Folks want to hear the gospel preached, not 
man’s inventions.” 

"And they hear the gospel, when Mr. 
Gibson preaches.” 

This among the men, while the women 
were not silent. Bashy Turner went from 


150 


OLD TIMES. 


one pew to another, speaking her mind and 
praising the minister, everywhere welcomed 
as reliable authority in disputed questions. 

I’m glad you’ve come round,” said old 
Mrs. Peters; I want to ask you some ques- 
tions and the cracked voice in which this 
was said grew shrill with excitement. What 
started up Deacon Campbell, arter what he 
said ? It beats me, and I thought you’d 
know.” 

'' I don’t know nothin about it, Mrs. Peters. 
If there’s a reason, he haint told. I was to 
the meetin when he signed.” 

*‘You was! I s’posed so, and I hearn tell 
that the school-house was full.” 

’Twas full as folks could be comfortable, 
and I wish you’d been there.” 

“ I dunno, I dunno, Bashy. I’ve made it a 
subject of prayer; but I don’t see my way 
clear yit. I s’pose you do.” 

“ Clear’s a bell, Mrs. Peters, and so’d other 
folks if they’d be willin to hear reason.” 

“I’m willin,” said the old woman, with 


THE LEAVEN WORKING. 


151 


tears in her eyes. If ^ I’ve been wrong, I 
want to be forgiven ’fore I die, and ’twont 
be long.” 

“Well, Mrs. Peters, if you’ve took to 
prayin over it, most likely you’ll come out 
right, though somebody might help you 
along. I wish you’d come to one of our 
temperance meetins.” 

“ I’m too old for that, Bashy ; but if you’d 
come and tell me what they say. I’d take 
it kindly. You’ve got a good memory.” 

“I guess I have — too good sometimes; 
and if ther^’*^ a day to spare any time along, 
I’ll make you a visit. You haint heard no 
bad news lately, I hojiie and when this re- 
mark was answered by an ominous shake of 
the head, Bashy said, decidedly, “I’ll come.” 

No drunkards in the olden time, before 
temperance reforms had agitated the land ? 
Three hundred thousand ! Hardback people 
said this was impossible, and yet their town 
furnished its full proportion of this number. 
The first pauper in Hardback was beggared 


152 


OLD TIMES. 


by rum. The first crime within its borders 
was committed under the influence of intoxi- 
cating drink ; and the first grave opened, was 
for one whose life had been shortened by 
intemperance. 



AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 153 


CHAPTER IX. 

AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 

OING to the temperance meeting?” 
This question was repeated so 
often that Jim Cragin shouted it at 
his work, declaring that the oxen 
understood its meaning, and rejoiced in antici- 
pation of better days. Star and Bright know 
there’s something in the wind. They’ve for- 
got all about a goad-stick, same as I’ve forgot 
about a scolding.” 

The temperance meeting was to be on 
Wednesday evening, and the corn-husking 
at Deacon Campbell’s on Thursday evening. 
Notice of the former was given from the 
pulpit, while news of the latter was circulated 
generally, and it was expected there would be 
a full attendance on both occasions. 

On Wednesday evening the officers of the 



154 


OLD TIMES. 


new society were early in their places. Prayer 
was offered, and a report of the previous meet- 
ing read. Speeches were called for. Deacon 
Cragin said they wanted to hear from every 
body, and know just how they stood. ‘"This 
is sort of a conference. WeVe got work before 
us, and the more resolute we take hold, the 
better. Our opposers say we’re uprootin the 
foundations of society, and if that’s the case 
we want to know it. If society rests upon 
rum casks, we want to know that, too, and 
we’ll pull out the casks and let society settle.” 

As the deacon paused, a red-faced farmer 
said he would like to ask a question, if it was 
in order. 

“ It is in order,” was the reply. ‘‘ We shall 
be glad to hear questions from any one.” 

“ Well, then, what’s stirred up this fuss ? I 
ain’t much of a hand to go to m.eetin, and 
didn’t hear Mr. Safford’s .sermon, so I don’t 
know exactly how it come about. If liquor 
does so much hurt, why didn’t our fathers and 
grandfathers find it out ? I aint a professor. 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 155 


and don’t read the Bible as much as some of 
the rest of you, but seems to me you’re 
gettin a good ways ahead of that.” 

I think you’ll find us nearer the Bible 
than we’ve ever been before, Mr. Runnels,” 
answered Deacon Cragin. “ But our minister 
here, can explain it all to you.” 

Mr. Gibson rose, glad of an opportunity to 
speak in a familiar way upon the very points 
which had been mentioned. He reviewed the 
labors of a few earnest men, whose attention 
had been aroused by the alarming prevalence 
of intemperance, described the manner in 
which statistics had been gathered, and ad- 
verted to the influence which had been used 
to induce clergymen to preach against this 
great evil. 

“ It is more than two years since I received 
the first letter, urging me to this duty, yet 
I have kept silence. I knew how difficult 
it would be to convince this people that they 
had been wrong, and I shrunk from the oppo- 
sition I was sure 1 should meet. I love iny 


156 


OLD TIMES. 


people, and it grieves me when they look 
at me coldly; but I must obey God, rather 
than man/^ 

Having thus secured the sympathy of all 
present, it was easy for the speaker to proceed 
with a statement of facts. The number of 
drunkards, which had at first seemed impossi- 
ble, was made to appear credible. The enor- 
mous consumption of alcoholic liquor, which 
equalled that of six gallons a year for every 
man, woman, and child in the country, was 
proved to be no groundless assertion. “If 
we could collect facts here, if we could know 
how many deaths have been caused by intem- 
perance, and how many lives have been made 
wretched, I think we should find our town no 
better than others.” 

At the close of Mr. Gibson's remarks, all 
united in singing the grand old tune of Coro- 
nation, a perfectly orthodox way of giving 
utterance to their excited feelings. 

Mr. Runnels expressed his thanks, and 
promised to think over the matter, adding, 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 157 

**l don’t like to be called a drunkard; but 
I’m afraid if you’re goin to canvass the town 
you’ll count me on that side. My father 
brought me up to drink liquor, and if I’d had 
any boys, I suppose I should done the same, 
and thought ’twas all right. I move that, 
somehow, you get an estimate of the drunk- 
ards here for the last twenty-five years. There 
is enough can remember as long ago as that, 
and there can’t nobody find any fault with 
tellin the truth. I believe in fair play both 
sides, and if I’m beat, I’ll own it, and give 
five dollars to the minister next donation.” 

‘‘ Good for you, Mr. Runnels !” exclaimed a 
man at his side. “I second that motion; and 
I’ll give another five dollars to the minister 
if the temperance folks get the best of it.” 

Such peals of laughter followed, that Dea- 
con Cragin rapped for order, and asked if the 
motion thus made should be put to vote. 
It was moved and seconded by the members 
of the society that this should be done, and, 
accordingly, a vote was taken. A committee 


158 


OLD TIMES. 


was then appointed to make the necessary 
investigations ; this committee consisting of 
George Ransom, Ezra Nichols, and Mr. Whit- 
ney. 

I would like to inquire what is expected 
of us,” remarked the last named gentleman. 
“ Mr. Runnels and Mr. Smith say they’ll each 
give five dollars to the minister if they’re 
fairly beat. I should like to know what 
they mean by fairly beat.” 

“Well, I declare, Mr. Whitney, I can’t 
exactly tell, myself,” said Mr. Runnels. “ I 
suppose I mean if things are bad as the 
minister says — if the town’s been hurt by 
the use of liquor.” 

“And who is going to decide?” 

“ I’ll decide myself, and you needn’t expect 
I’ll be one-sided about it neither. I’ll call 
in my wife if there’s any danger, and she’s 
clear temperance. That’s what made me 
come here to-night.” 

“ Then, as I understand it, if we can prove 
that the people of Hardback have been 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 


159 


injured by the use of intoxicating liquor; if 
our taxes have been larger, and our schools 
shorter, because so much money has been 
spent for rum, you’ll acknowledge yourselves 
beat.” 

Yes, we will,” replied both Mr. Runnels and 
Mr. Smith; although Bashy Turner thought 
they were getting “ sick of their bargain.” 

“ When shall we make a report ?” asked 
Ezra Nichols. 

One month from to-night, if that’ll give 
you time enough,” replied Deacon Cragin. 

“ Every person in town should hear it,” 
remarked Mr. Gibson. This school-house is 
too small for us already. The boys will 
object to sitting on the door steps when it is 
much cooler, and we must certainly find room 
for the boys at these meetings.” 

There aint any thing to hinder our havin 
the town-house, if we need it,” responded 
Deacon Campbell, who was present with most 
of his family. “ We can decide about it 
before our next meetin.” 


160 


OLD TIMES. 


Several members were added to the society 
.this evening. Mrs. Campbell, with three of 
her children ; some young men from a remote 
part of the town; and last and least, Sam 
Glines. He had persevered until he could 
write his name so well that his mother could 
read it; and never was a prouder boy than he, 
when he lay down the pen after accomplishing 
this object, so dear to his heart. 

He aint old enough to know what he’s 
about,” sneered one. But he learned his 
mistake when Samuel repeated the temper- 
ance pledge, adding, know exactly what 
that means.” 

Of course he did. He knew that he was a 
drunkard’s child, although he had never seen 
his brutalized father. He knew, when the 
pitch knot blazed in the chimney corner late 
at night, or his mother sat at the old loom at 
unseasonable hours, that the poverty which 
compelled her thus to labor was the result of 
intemperance. 

‘‘Better let Sam alone,” suggested Jerry 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED 161 

Cragin. He knows what he’s about, and 
he’s going to be a smart man, if he lives.” 

‘‘ Hope he will,” was the reply. ’Twould 
be strange though, if Aunt Betty’s boy should 
turn out any thing wonderful.” 

In another part of the school-room, a man 
who only came to see what the rest were 
doing, said to those about him : I guess that 
committee ’ll stop before they git a great ways. 
Folks don’t want anybody round, asking all 
kinds of questions, when they haint any 
business to.” 

‘‘ Folks can read the town records if they 
want to,” replied Bashy Turner. There aint 
no law against that.” 

“ Nobody said there was. But they can’t 
find out all they want by the town records.” 

” There’s plenty of folks willin to tell the 
rest. If I could write as well as the minister, 
I could make out enough report myself, to 
earn ten dollars for him. ’Twouldn’t be much 
work to do that. Hardback aint no better’n 
other towns.” 


11 


162 


OLD TIMES. 


At this moment Mrs. Holden interrupted 
this woman’s talk, which, as the meeting had 
been formally closed, was considered in order. 

“ The leaven seems to be working,” re- 
marked the storekeeper’s wife. 

“Yes, Mrs. Holden, and the mustard seed 
has sprouted,” was Bashy’s reply. “ We’ve 
had a good meetin.” 

“Yes, I think we can all say that. Mrs. 
Campbell, your husband seems to have 
changed his mind since we met at Deacon 
Flanders’.” 

“ We’ve both changed our minds, Mrs. 
Holden. You never ’ll know how much good 
you done that afternoon.” 

“ I’m glad if I done any. I’ve wished a 
good many times something had happened 
to keep me at home. I know you all thought 
different from what I did, but I couldn’t help 
speaking my mind. I told Mr. Holden about 
it, and he said he guessed I hadn’t done much 
hurt, so I begun to feel better about it.” 

“ I’m glad for every word you said,” replied 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 163 

Mrs. Campbell. “ There was a providence in 
your goin there that afternoon, and Mrs. 
Flanders thinks pretty nigh as I do, only she 
can’t come out on account of the deacon. 
He’s dreadful set, in his way, and there can’t 
nobody turn him.” 

Directly, there was a general movement 
among the men gathered around the desk, 
as Deacon Campbell spoke of going home. 
A few words were exchanged in regard to 
the anticipated husking, and an assurance 
given that there would be no lack of help, 
when they separated. 

The next day all was hurry and bustle 
in Mrs. Campbell’s kitchen, the good woman 
being resolved that no one should find fault 
with her supper. Bashy Turner was there, 
and for this day laid aside thimble, needle 
and thread, that she might assist in cooking. 
Long before sunrise there*had been a roaring 
fire in the brick oven, which was early filled 
with pies of the usual variety. As the morn- 
ing advanced, pans were heaped with the 


164 


OLD TIMES. 


famous spiced doughnuts, indispensable to 
all merry-makings. 

“Well, Mrs. Campbell, if they eat all them 
cakes they’ll be smart,” exclaimed Bashy, 
contemplating them with a smile. “ But I 
expect there’ll be some dreadful hungry men 
here ; dry, too, as a codfish. Old Harris ’li 
begin to smack his lips before he’s husked 
half an hour; and I shouldn’t wonder if it 
took a gallon of cider to wash down his 
supper.” 

“ Likely as not, but we wont begrudge him 
the cider nor the supper, as long as he can’t 
get any liquor.” 

“ I hope there wont be none brought, 
Mrs. Campbell.” 

“ Why, you don’t expect there will be, 
do you ?” was the reply. “ What made you 
think of it?” 

“ I don’t know, unless it’s because IVe 
heard so much about the depravity of man- 
kind. The deacon wont be to blame for it 
though, and there’ll be enough temperance 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 165 

folks to know it, so we needn’t worry. How 
many do you expect ?” 

“ I don’t know nothing about that. I 
mean to have supper enough for as many 
as come.” 

‘‘ I guess there’s no danger about that,” 
replied Bashy. ** It’s time them pies come 
out of the oven.” 

In the midst of all this talk and work 
Fanny Campbell, a pretty girl, fourteen years 
of age, flitted about the old kitchen, caring 
for the younger children, and lending a help- 
ing hand wherever one was needed. She 
laughed more than she talked, content to 
listen. 

Pork and beans, with corn bread, were to 
furnish the substantial part of the supper; 
and when the last loaf was in its place, and 
the oven lid securely fastened, Mrs. Campbell 
said to her efficient aid, “Now do sit down 
and take breath.” 

“ Law, sake ! I don’t need to stop for that,” 
was the reply. “I’ve been breathin all the 


166 


OLD TIMES. 


time. The supper’s well under weigh, and I 
wish Betty Glines and her boy were comin to 
help eat it.’^ 

“ I wish so, too, Bashy. I am afraid they 
go short sometimes.” 

Not exactly that, Mrs. Campbell. They 
have enough of somethin, but they don’t git 
many pies and cakes. They might come to 
the husking, and have supper here, and you 
not miss it.” 

** Of course they might, and what’s to hin- 
der their havin some, if they aint here ? You 
might put up a basket full, and get Jim Cragin 
to take it along.” 

I will, if you say so. Mrs. Glines is proud, 
but you can send word, that as long as she 
and Sam were invited, you got supper for 
them.” 

“That’s just the thing,” added Fanny. “ I’ll 
pack the basket.” 

The deacon came in, and hearing this plan 
for giving Aunt Betty a treat, proposed that 
enough be sent to “ amount to somethin.” 


AN INVESTIGATION DEMANDED. 167 


She’ll come to hear our temperance report, 
and we ought to helped her before.” 

She’s too proud to accept charity,” now 
said Bashy Turner. “She’s willin to work, 
but there’s been some pretty dark times in 
that old log house. I wanted her to come 
down and help your wife to-day. ’T would 
been a change for her; and I want to get 
through here soon as I can, to make some 
clothes for Sam. He needs them before 
school begins.” 



168 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER X. 

A COLD WATER HUSKING. 

EOPLE wondered how it would 
seem to go to a cold water husking, 
and many predicted that it would 
be a dry concern. Always before, 
there had been bowls of egg-nog, mugs of 
flip, glasses of rum diluted and sugared, while 
for those who preferred it there was an abun- 
dant supply of the raw material. But none 
of all this now. Instead, there would be 
cider. In the early days of the temperance 
reform cider was not included in the pledge, 
and this was expected to form an important 
part of the evening’s entertainment. If any 
one complained of cold, half a dozen red pep- 
pers would give to the orthodox beverage, 
already heated by a hissing loggerhead, suffi- 
cient ‘‘ bite” to satisfy most people. 



A COLD WATER HUSKTNa, 


169 


They shant complain that it aint warmin, 
if you’ll let me fix it,” said Bashy. I should 
like to fix a dose for Harris.” 

The first arrivals were Jim Cragin, Sam 
Glines, and some other boys, who came early, 
to see all that was goin on,” as Jim told 
Bashy. 

‘‘ How did Sam’s mother happen to let 
him come ?” she asked. 

“ O, I wanted him to come, so I went up' 
to see her,” was the reply. '‘You know he 
most always stays to home; but after I 
told Aunt Betty what father said, she let 
him come. He can husk, and I knew he’d 
like the fun.” 

“Of course he will, and I’m glad he’s 
come. Mrs. Campbell’s got somethin ready 
for him to carry to his mother, so she’ll get 
her share of the supper.” 

The boys husked the first basket of corn 
alone, in the waning daylight ; but they were 
soon joined by a large company of men. 
Contrary to all expectation, some old topers 


170 


OLD TIMES. 


were present. If they could not both eat 
and drink at their host’s expense, they pro- 
posed to make sure of the eating ; but before 
the work was half done, Jim Cragin, whose 
senses were acute as those of an Indian, 
assured himself that there was some liquor 
on the premises. 

Soon after this discovery, he guessed he’d 
go into the house and see Bashy Turner 
awhile. He’d got something to tell her 
she ought to know,” and with this excuse 
he left the barn. Out of sight, he buttoned 
his jacket, pulled his cap over his ears, and 
prepared to spend some time in the open air. 
He did not wait long, however, before from 
his hiding-place he saw three men come 
out from the barn, and go to a heap of 
straw by the shed, take out some flasks and 
drink. 

‘‘ I said I wouldn’t go to a huskin where 
there wasn’t liquor, and I didn’t,” said one. 

I filled my flask fore I started, and if I 
feel just right. I’ll ask the deacon to take a 


A COLD WATER HUSKINO. 


171 


drink with me fore I start. I’ll leave enough 
for that.” 

“You will, will you?” thought Jim; and 
five minutes after, the flasks were empty. 
Then he went to see Bashy, and told her 
what he had done. 

“You done just right, and they’ll be mad 
as hornets when they find it out,” she replied. 
“ I’ll fix a mug of peppered cider purpose 
for them, so they won’t take cold goin 
home.” 

“ Well, don’t you tell nobody.” 

“You needn’t worry, Jim. I can keep 
my own secrets, and other folks’ too. You 
go back to the barn, and we’ll see how it 
comes out.” 

At length the last ear was husked, the last 
basket emptied, and one after another piled 
into the kitchen, ready for the supper which 
awaited them. Tables had been spread the 
whole length of the room, so that by dint of 
good management all were seated. 

Those who waited upon the hungry crowd 


172 


OLD TIMES. 


thought a fast must have preceded the feast ; 
but Mrs. Campbell only smiled as they ate, 
congratulating herself that the oven and 
pantry held more in reserve. The boys, 
while eating heartily, found time to observe 
others, and lay up material for jokes in the 
future ; yet Jim Cragin was more serious 
than usual. His companions guessed some- 
thing was the matter, and even his father 
looked at him in surprise. 

“ Coin to give us a mug of flip, Bashy 
asked one of the company who had brought 
his own liquor. 

‘'Yes, if you like cider flip,'' was the 
reply. 

“ Let’s see how good you can make it, 
^Twill be better’n none.” 

The peppers, opened long before, were in 
condition to flavor whatever should be poured 
upon them. Mugs of bubbling cider were 
soon prepared, Bashy taking care that the 
topers should have no reason to call their 
drink flat. 


A COLD WATER HUSKING. 


173 


** I say for’t, Bashy, you put the seasonin 
into this!” exclaimed one. 

I thought that’s what you wanted. You 
like to have a good dzU to it, don’t you ?” 

‘‘Yes, but this is too mighty. I must have 
something to cool off with and three or 
four others making the same complaint, it 
was greeted with peals of laughter, and cut- 
ting jokes, until there was a perfect din of 
voices. 

“ Have some more flip ?” asked she who 
presided over this part of the entertainment, as 
soon as there was a lull in the storm. “ I’ve 
got my hand in, and the loggerhead hot, so I 
can make more, just as well as not. Wont 
you have another mug, Mr. Harris?” 

“ Not to-night, Bashy. But if ever you 
hear I’m froze to death, just give me a dose 
like what I’ve had, and I shall come to. — I say, 
you didn’t put no spirit in that, did you ?” 

“I put in somethin warmin,” was the reply; 
and there was another explosion of merriment 
as the victims had recourse to the mugs of 


174 


OLD TIMES. 


cold cider, which were constantly being re- 
plenished. 

“ Well, Tm going home,*’ said one of the 
younger men. “I’ve had a good supper; 
cider too, and enough of it. A cold water 
huskin aint so bad, after all; and, Bashy, I’ll 
send for you when I want some temperance 
flip. Good-night, all.” 

“ Come, boys, we’d better go home,” re- 
marked Jim Cragin, hurrying to see the fun 
outside. 

“ Don’t you want to ride ?” asked his father. 

“No, sir. I’d rather walk; but perhaps 
Sam ’ll get in when you come along.” 

“Sam aint ready to go yet,” said Bashy. “I 
want to see him, and there’s somethin to go to 
his mother, so he’d better ride all the way.” 

Jim did not stop to hear this, neither did he 
miss his friend. 

“ We’ve had a good supper, no mistake, and 
the deacon’s done well, but I aint none of 
your new-fangled temperance folks. I be- 
lieve in a little spirit, so I brought my flask 


A COLD WATER HUSKIKG. 


175 


with me,” and the speaker drew it from the 
heap of straw where it had been hidden. 
“ Here’s another, and here’s another. Take a 
drink;” and without observing that the flasks 
were empty, their owners passed them along. 

“Where’s your liquor?” 

“ Why, what’s the matter ?” 

“ O, nothin, only a man don’t care much 
for ” 

“Well, what’s to pay? Say, Smith, is your 
flask empty too ?” 

“Yes,” was the reply. 

“And mine too,” added the third. 

“ I should like to know the meaning of 
this.” 

“ I can explain it,” answered one of the 
bystanders with a shout. “You emptied them 
down your throats.”. 

“ No we didn’t. Mine was more’n half full 
when we left it.” 

“ Tell that where you aint known. We’ve 
all seen you before, and I guess you’ll get 
along if you don’t have any liquor. Bashy’s 


176 


OLD TIMES. 


flip will keep you warm, and you can go into 
the report.” 

“Report be — ” 

“ Hold up there ; don’t swear till you get 
off the deacon’s premises. That report’s goin 
to be a good thing, and I’ll hear it read, if I 
live long enough. Guess you and I better 
jine the society, and be respectable.” 

By this time nearly all the husking party 
had gathered around the discomfited trio ; 
some with words of mock condolence, and 
some with shouts of laughter. Jim Cragin 
returned to the house, and reported the result 
of his mischief. Sam Glines was ready with 
his basket; thanking Mrs. Campbell for her 
kindness with a happy smile. 

“I hope you have enjoyed yourself this 
evening,” she said. 

“Yes, ma’am, I have,” was the boy’s reply. 
“ I never went to a husking before ; and I 
shouldn’t come to-night if Jim hadn’t asked 
mother, and I promised her I wouldn’t drink 
any cider.” 


A COLD WATER HUSKING. 


177 


'^And didn’t you drink any?” asked Bashy. 

‘‘Why, no ma’am. I promised mother I 
wouldn’t, and I never tell her a lie. She’d 
know it if I did.” 

“ Well, tell her for me that you’ve been a 
good boy, and I’ll be up and make your 
clothes week after next.” 

“ Sam Glines !” called out Deacon Cragin ; 
“ come, you can ride as far as I go ; you’ll 
have walking enough after that. And the 
rest of you boys can pile in, as long as there’s 
room.” 

Sam did not hesitate. He was glad to ride, 
for when left, he would have half a mile to 
walk alone, yet the light which shone from 
his home so warmed his heart that he thought 
little of the distance. 

“ Well, my son, did you like the huskin ?” 
asked Aunt Betty, so soon as he had closed 
the door behind him. 

“Yes, mother, we had a real good supper 
lots of beans, and pies, and cakes, and pickles, 

and apple-sauce; and I’ve brought you some- 
12 


178 


OLD TIMES. 


thing, too, in that basket. Mrs. Campbell 
sent it, and said you must take it as a huskin 
present. I never heard of a huskin present 
before, did you ?’’ 

‘‘ No, Samuel, I never did and the poor 
woman’s lips quivered with some unspoken 
emotion. 

‘^See what’s in the basket, mother. I tell 
you it’s pretty heavy. I guess my arms would 
ached if I’d carried it all the way, though 
I’d been glad to bring it for you.” 

The basket had been packed by one who 
understood economizing room, and contained 
enough for several good suppers for the in- 
mates of the log house. 

‘Mt’s a nice present,” said Mrs. Glines. 

‘‘And aint Mrs. Campbell kind, mother?” 

“Very kind, though I’d rather earn what 
we have.” 

“ But this is a present, mother. When I’m 
a man, I mean to give somebody a present; 
I’m goin to do all the good I can. Mr. Gib- 
son said everybody could do some good, if 


A COLD WATER HUSKING. 


179 


^twas only a little, and Tve been tryin to 
begin. That’s what made me chop on that 
old log yesterday, and I’ve got wood and 
chips enough to keep the fire to-day. To- 
morrow I’m goin to chop again; ’twont be 
but a little, but ’twill help some, wont it, 
mother ?” 

“Help some! Yes, everybody helps to 
make the world better or worse. Every act 
performed, and every word spoken, has some 
influence either for good or evil.” 

Mrs. Glines had exacted a promise from 
her boy that he would not drink cider. 
This promise, repeated, led to a train of 
thought in the minds of some of those who 
heard it, which prompted to a more moderate 
use of the beverage. 

“ I’ve pretty much made up my mind that 
I done wrong to-night without meanin to,” 
said Bashy Turner, as Deacon Campbell came 
in from the barn, where he had been to see 
that all was safe. 

“Done wrong! How?” he asked. 


180 


OLD TIMES. 


“ Fixin so much cider. Some of them men 
were half fuddled, and I don’t know but it’s 
just as bad to get drunk on one thing as 
another. What do you think, deacon?” 

‘‘ I don’t know,” he answered, with some 
hesitation. I never thought much about it.” 

Nor I neither, though I never did hold 
to pourin down a quart or two, as I’ve seen 
folks. But Sam Glines’ mother made him 
promise her not to drink any, and he didn’t 
taste of it to-night.” 

‘‘ Didn’t he ? Well, I’m glad of it. He’s 
on the safe side, and Mrs. Glines knows 
what she’s about. His father was an awful 
cider drinker, and ’twant safe to leave vinegar 
round where he was, if you wanted to keep 
it. But then, Bashy, I guess the pepper ’ll 
offset against the cider. The last I saw of 
Harris, he was tryin to cool his mouth.” 

The emptied flasks were next considered. 

‘‘ Who poured out the liquor ?” asked 
Deacon Campbell. 

“Nobody knows,” answered Horace. “I 


A COLD WATEK HUSKINa. 


181 


guess they drank it themselves, and ’twas a 
good thing they did. If they hadn’t, some- 
body else would.’* 

Bashy kept Jim’s secret, and changed the 
subject of conversation by saying, “ 1 thought 
of that report when the men were eatin their 
suppers. Most every one of them could tell 
somethin towards it. Ezry Nichols ’ll have 
to begin pretty nigh home. His father’s 
took his bed, and don’t want nothin to eat.” 

“Who told you that?” asked Mrs. Camp- 
bell. 

“Jim Cragin ; and Joe told him. He says 
it’s pretty hard gettin along. Now, you think 
Grandsir Nichols is a Christian, don’t you ?” 

“ Why, yes, I always thought so, though 
he’s got a good deal of taste for liquor, and 
it seems to grow on him. I guess it’s pretty 
apt to, as folks grow older.” 

“ I guess so too. Mr. Saffbrd said when 
a man got to be forty years old, he’d either 
drink a good deal more, or not so much as he 
did before; and you know the old deacons 


182 


OLD TIMES. 


didn’t take but very little spirit the last of 
their lives.” 

I know they didn’t. I heard them talk 
about it. But I don’t see what Ezry Nichols 
can do. His father can’t be reasoned with 
much ; and ’twould be pretty hard for the 
old man to deny himself I thank the Lord 
that he called me to stop when he did. Now, 
I shant ruin myself, nor anybody else. I 
aint sure, though, but we’re drinkin too much 
cider. What do you think, Horace?” 

“ I don’t know, father. I guess there were 
some here to-night, as would be better off 
to-morrow mornin if they hadn’t drinked 
any cider.” 

‘‘ I’m afraid you’re right, my son ; and if 
drinkin cider’s wrong, I’ll stop it. I’ve seen 
men get drunk on* it.” 

“ I guess you have, deacon. There was old 
Ben Tandy, who spent most of his time beg- 
gin cider, and he’d always get as drunk as 
a fiddler. Don’t you remember him, Hor- 
ace ?” 


A COLD WATER HUSKING. 


183 


''Yes; and I remember that he’d empty a 
quart mug without stopping to take breath.” 

“ He’ll do to go in the report,” said Bashy. 
" He was on the town ten years ; and the 
town took care of his wife much as twelve 
years. There was one bill added to the taxes. 

0 dear ! I wish I’d been sent to school more 
when I was young. I’d make out that report 
if I knew how to put the words together. 
Nobody needn’t tell me that Hardback aint 
poorer for what liquor’s been drinked in it. 

1 know better. Every cent I earnt till I was 
more than thirty years old went on account 
of liquor. Father and mother would both 
been on the town if it hadn’t been for me. 
Then — but I could talk all night, and not 
come to an end. Mr. Gibson shall have 
therh ten dollars, if I have to get up in the 
meeting and talk myself.” 

“ I wish you would,” responded Deacon 
Campbell. "I hope you’ll talk everywhere 
you go. Talk to the young men. They need 
it.” 


184 


OLD TIMES. 


'' More than you know of, father,” added 
Horace. Folks don’t know all that’s going 
on. 

‘‘You wont break your pledge, my son?” 
“ Never !” was replied with emphasis. 



A REPORT OF RUM’S DOINGS. 


185 


CHAPTER XL ' 

A REPORT OF RUM’S DOINGS. 

ELL might Horace Campbell say, 
More than you know of.” People 
had been blind — stone blind, it 
seemed to some who now, for the 
first time, saw with greatly improved vision. 
Where was the temperance of which they 
had boasted, sure that no reform was needed 
in Hardback ? Mr. Runnels told his wife he 
knew he should be beat, and advised Mr. 
Smith to have an extra five dollars in hand 
against the donation. 

“ I aint goin to give up yet,” was the 
reply he received. 

“You might as well. Smith. I guess the 
town records ’ll beat us, if nothin else. Pve 
been thinkin it over, and I aint mistaken.” 

“ Well, for my part, I haint thought much 



186 


OLD TIMES. 


about it/^ responded Mr. Smith. ‘^There’ll be 
time enough for that, when it’s settled. I 
haint heard that the committee ’s been round 
yet.” 

They wont need to go round. George 
Ransom’s got the town books.” 

“Then his job will be all the easier. But 
’twill take somethin beside town books to 
make much of a story; and I aint goin to cry 
beat, till I hear the report. I’m goin to the 
meetin to hear that, and then I’ve done with 
the temperance folks. We never had any 
trouble as long as Priest Grimes lived, and 
we shouldn’t now, if he was alive. He liked 
a little spirit himself.” 

“Well, yes, I suppose he did. But Mr. Gib- 
son is a good man. Everybody says that.” 

Others talked of the report, wondering 
when Hardback would be canvassed for the 
collection of facts, while the committee wisely 
kept silence. At the next meeting of the tem- 
perance society. Deacon Cragin gave notice 
that a report might be expected in two weeks. 


A REPORT OF RUM^S DOINGS. 187 

‘*We shall meet in the town-house, and it is 
hoped there will be a full attendance of the 
people of Hardback,” he added. 

‘‘That’s goin to be the turnin pint,” said 
an old man, who declared himself, anxious to 
know the truth. “ I can remember back a 
good many years, and there’s always been 
them in town that drinked more’n they 
ought to. There’s been some good farms 
run through, and I know it’s best to be 
careful about drinkin.” 

Bashy Turner, who was at work for Mrs. 
Glines, did not attend this meeting, but Sam 
gave so good an account of what transpired 
that she was quite satisfied. 

“ I guess we’ll make a minister of you,” 
she said. “You go to school this winter, 
and learn all you can towards it. The mas- 
ter’s comin on Friday, Pheny Whitney said, 
and she’s got her house in apple-pie order 
for him. I expect number one ’ll have the 
best school in town, and you ought to be 
one of the best scholars.” 


188 


OLD TIMES. 


I’m goin to,” answered the boy. ** Mother 
has saved the money to buy me some new 
books, but next year I’ll buy my own.” 

That’s right, Sam ; do for yourself. Mr. 
Gibson says the smartest man he knows of 
was once a poor boy, who didn’t have enough 
to eat half the time, till he earned it for him- 
self That’s poorer than you be.” 

‘^So ’tis, but you see I’ve got a good 
mother.” 

Chop! chop! chop! The ring of the axe 
was not very loud, although the blows were 
sharp and quick. The chopper was a boy, 
and the results of his labor small, but with 
a resolute will, each day would increase these 
results. 

‘‘Steady and sure,” thought Bashy, as she 
gave her young friend a nod of encourage- 
ment; “that’s the way things are brought 
about in this world.” 

So the temperance movement was gradually 
gaining ground, although now, as at the first, 
more than half the members of the society 


A REPORT OF rum’s DOINGS. 189 

were women and children. Those who op- 
posed the reform waited for light/' as they 
said ; and Deacon Willey, who was really 
astonished to find so respectable a minority 
arrayed against them, counselled moderation. 

“ I guess this stir will blow over, and if it 
don’t, there’s time enough to look after it. 
'Taint best to make trouble in the church, 
and I suppose, to come right down to the 
bottom of the case, other folks have just as 
good right to let liquor alone, as we have 
to use it." 

‘‘'Taint that," responded Deacon Porter; 
“they want to bring everybody to think just 
as they do. My grandsir was killed in the 
Revolution, and I aint goin to sign away my 
liberty." 

Ignorance was some excuse for this foolish 
speech ; but even now, there are men who see 
slavery in a temperance pledge, and boast 
of freedom and independence while selling 
their birthright for a mess of pottage. 

Mr. Whitney and Ezra Nichols spent most 


190 


OLD TIMES. 


of one day with George Ransom in the dis- 
charge’ of the duty to which they had been 
appointed. Item after item was read from 
the town books, most of them payments for 
the board of paupers, funeral expenses, and 
relief granted to poor families. Thousands 
of dollars had been spent in this way, for 
which, of course, the people had been taxed. 

‘‘ I’m surprised,” said Mr. Whitney. ‘‘ It’s 
worse than I thought, and these figures don’t 
tell half the story. Misery and wretchedness 
can’t be reckoned in dollars and cents.” 

“True, Mr. Whitney; I’m beginning to see 
that, and it’s the strangest thing in the world 
that we haint seen it before. We’ve heard 
a great deal of preaching about the depravity 
of man, and if there was ever anyth*ing would 
make men more depraved every way, it’s 
liquor, and I know it.” 

“ Yes, and we needn’t go far to find it 
out. It’s been a common saying, ever since 
I can remember, ‘Such a man would be a 
good man if he’d let liquor alone.’ I’ve 


A REPORT OF RUM’S DOINaS. 191 

heard it a hundred times, long before there 
was any talk about temperance/^ 

‘‘ So have I,” replied George Ransom ; 
‘^and those are the very men it’s the hardest 
to reach. Bashy Turner’s father was kind- 
hearted naturally, but liquor made him ugly 
as a wild beast. And there’s another side 
of the story Betty Glines could tell, poor 
woman ; but we shall have to leave that out 
of our report. Mr. Whitney, I wish you’d 
put the report in order. You understand 
such things better than I do. I’ve got the 
facts, but they might be made more impres- 
sive, as Priest Grimes used to say.” 

‘‘Plain facts are just what we need, Mr. 
Ransom. Our people can understand them, 
and the fewer words used, the better. Only 
you might tell which of the paupers were 
made poor by their own drinking, and which 
by somebody else. Some old folks ought 
to have been taken care of by their children, 
and some children been taken care of by 
their parents. We’ll try to give all their due.” 


192 


OLD TIMES. 


‘‘And shall I read the names?” 

“ I guess not, unless they’re called for. 
We don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, 
unless it’s necessary. Mr. Runnels wont 
push the matter very far.” 

“ But he aint the only one to be thought 
of,” said Ezra Nichols. “ There’ll be some 
determined not to believe, and we must be 
prepared for them.” 

Wednesday evening came, and there was 
a large audience gathered in the .town-house, 
although there had been a great effort on :he 
part of some to make this meeting a failure. 
Mr. Runnels and Mr. Smith were present, 
eager to hear the report which had been so 
quietly prepared. For obvious reasons, Mr. 
Gibson declined speaking upon this report, 
and George Hudson, the new teacher, had 
been invited to make some remarks. 

Facts are stubborn things, and long before 
George Ransom had completed his list, there 
were many whispered comments in different 
parts of the room. 


A REPORT OF RUM’s DOINGS. 


193 


I’d like to make some inquiries, now Mr. 
Ransom’s got through.” 

Hardly was he through when this remark 
was made, but Deacon Cragin informed the 
speaker that inquiries were in order. 

I want to know where you got them 
figures.” 

From the town records,” replied George 
Ransom. 

“ Does anybody know any thing about ’em 
but you ?” 

‘'Yes, sir. Mr. Whitney and Mr. Nichols 
have both seen the records, and both gentle- 
men are here to speak for themselves.” 

“How much did you say it all footed up?” 

The amount was repeated. 

“ And you say ’twas all on account of 
drinkin liquor.” 

“Yes, sir; and can prove it.” 

“ I give up,” exclaimed Mr. Runnels, spring- 
ing to his feet. “ Mr. Gibson shall have the 
five dollars, and neighbor Smith’s all ready 
with his money ; I can tell that by his looks. 

13 


194 ' 


OLD TIMES. 


I aint goin to keep five dollars out of what 
my wife generally carries, either; Tm goin 
to be fair and above board. The temperance 
folks are right, and we’re wrong. There’s 
no doubt in my mind but we’ve paid a good 
round tax for the privilege of drinkin rum.” 

The whole country has paid a good round 
tax for the same privilege, if privilege it be.’* 

George Hudson said this, and then pro- 
ceeded to speak of the evils of intemperance. 
He described the downward career of several 
young men with whom he had been ac- 
quainted, graphically portraying the sorrow 
of their friends, and -the bitterness of disap- 
pointed hopes. 

“These young men learned to drink at 
home, with fathers and mothers ; in the circle 
of loved ones their doom was sealed. Many 
of you will say they should have drank more 
moderately, and perhaps they might; but the 
love for intoxicating liquor often becomes a 
passion which it is difficult to control, and 
with some, there must be drunkenness or 


A REPORT OF RUM’s DOINGS. 195 

total abstinence — there is, for them, no mode- 
ration.’’ 

When Mr. Hudson sat down, every man, 
woman and child in district number one was 
proud of their teacher, whether endorsing 
his sentiments or not. . He knew how to talk, 
and would have a great influence over his 
scholars. 

Much good was accomplished by this meet- 
ing. The sympathies of some were enlisted 
who had before stood aloof. Mr. Welcome 
was there, and listened as for his life, while 
the young stranger was speaking. His Ben- 
jamin wandered, he knew not where. Pov- 
erty, sickness, and crime, might each or all 
have counted this son their victim. And was 
it true, that he himself had helped to ruin 
this child of his love ? Mr. Welcome was a 
man who seldom manifested any emotion, but 
he could not quite stifle the sighs which burst 
from Ills laboring heart, or repress the tears 
which filled his eyes. 

Other parents, whose children had failed 


196 


OLD TIMES. 


to realize their expectations, questioned if this 
habit of universal drinking was the cause. 
Sons, noble and truthful, had degenerated into 
worthless men; daughters, pure, beautiful and 
loving, had been wedded to lives of poverty 
and wretchedness. 

After the meeting closed, several asked 
George Ransom the names of those who had 
been supported by the town, one saying, ‘‘ I 
never thought we had so many paupers in 
Hardback. We’ve been reckoned well-to-do 
folks generally.’* 

So we have been, but we might done 
better, if we’d got up the temperance society 
thirty years ago,” remarked Deacon Cragin. 
“You and I would had more money at 
interest, and done a great deal better by our 
families.” 

“ Perhaps we might, but I don’t see it 
yet.” 

“I hope you will before long,” and here 
the deacon’s attention was claimed by a mid- 
dle-aged man, who came forward, leaning 


A REPORT OF RUM’s DOINGS. 


197 


Upon a cane. ‘‘Glad to see you, Mr. Wilson. 
I didn’t know you was here.” 

“ I wanted to come,” was the reply. 

“And I hope you feel paid for comin.” 

“ I’m glad I come — though I’ve heard 
things that ’ll make me feel bad all the rest 
of iny life. My old mother was supported 
by the town.” 

“ But nobody ever blamed you for that.” 

“ I don’t know as they did, but I guess 
the money I’ve drinked up would kept her. 
I’ve always been weakly, and the doctor 
said spirit was good for me; but he must 
been mistaken. I heard Mr. Safford, and 
since then I’ve been thinkin, and I’ve given up 
my drams. I was most sick the first few days, 
and couldn’t stick to my bench long to a 
time ; but I’ve got so now, I feel better’n I 
did before.” 

“ I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Wilson, and 
now I guess you’re ready to join our so- 
ciety.” 

“Yes, I am, deacon, though I didn’t really 


198 


OLD TIMES. 


want to come hobblin clear across the room, 
when every body’d be lookin at me and the 
usually pale face of the speaker flushed crim- 
son at the thought of his deformity. One 
more name was added to the list of the 
pledged, and a brighter day dawned for him 
whose life had been darkened by a father’s sin. 

The report which had been read was pro- 
nounced satisfactory, and yet many said it 
proved nothing in regard to moderate drink- 
ing. They believed in moderation, and they 
should continue to practise it. 

Don’t you drink any more liquor than 
you did ten years ago ?” 

This abrupt question was asked so plea- 
santly, that those who had boasted of modera- 
tion could not but answer it in the same 
spirit. 

“ I don’t know as I do,” said one. Per- 
haps I do take a little more sometimes, when 
I’ve got a hard day’s work on hand. I’m 
older than I was ten years ago.” 

’“Yes, but you’re only forty-five now. You 


A REPORT OF rum’s . DOINGS. 199 

ought to be stronger than you was ten years 
ago.” 

‘‘Well, I aint, if I ought to be. I get 
up in the morning sometimes, feeling pretty 
old.” 

“ ril tell you what makes you feel so,” 
said Deacon Campbell. “ It’s the liquor you 
drinked the day before. I know, for I tried 
it. I’m renewin my age since I left off.” 

“And you expect to go into the woods 
this winter, without takin a drop of spirit ?” 

“I do expect just that. My boys are all 
goin to school, and I shant have any hired 
man, unless I take hold of an extra job. So 
you can see where the work’s comin.” 

“ I thought you’d keep Horace to home 
this winter. Folks say he is quite a good 
scholar.” 

“ He is, and I hope he’ll be a good deal 
better one if he lives. We’ve got a good 
master in our district, and folks can’t afford 
to keep their children to home. Anyway, I 
can’t, if I do have to work hard.” 


200 


OLD TIMES. 


Your master’s going to be a minister, aint 
he?” 

” That’s what they say, and I guess he’s cut 
out for it. He talks well.” 

“Yes, he’s a tonguey fellow, whether he’s 
right or wrong in what he says.” 

“ He’s right,” said Deacon Campbell, earn- 
estly. “ I know he’s right, and I thank God 
for revealing it to me.” 

“ I suppose too, you’re on Mr. Gibson’s 
side.” 

“ Certain I am, and shall do everything I 
can to sustain him.” 

“ The three deacons that are against him 
aint neither of them here to-night, and I 
heard Deacon Porter said he never wanted 
to hear Mr. Gibson preach again.” 

“ I heard he said so,” replied Deacon Camp- 
bell. “ But I hope he’ll be brought to a 
better mind, and all the rest of you before 
long.” 

“ I haint nothin to say against Mr. Gibson,” 
was the response. “ I don’t think its right 


A REPORT OF RUM’S DOINGS. 201 

though, to bring secular subjects into the 
pulpit/' 

** What do you mean by secular subjects ?’' 

** Anything that don’t belong to religion and 
don’t have anything to do with it. Temper- 
ance aint religion.” 

“ No, but it has a great deal to do with it, 
and our society is goin to ask Mr. Gibson to 
preach a sermon on the subject.” 

’Twill make trouble if he does, deacon. I 
can stand it, but there’s them that wont.” 

Those who listened to Deacon Campbell 
could hardly realize that it was he who spoke. 
Always harsh and arbitrary in his manners, he 
had been respected without being loved ; but 
in the last few weeks a great change had 
passed over him. Never a harsh word rose 
to his lips, or an angry thought stirred his 
breast, without recalling the agony of that 
moment when he feared that he had killed 
his son. 

“ We could talk here all night, but I guess 
it’s best to go home,” at length said Deacon 


202 


OLD TIMES. 


Cragin. '^This has been our best meetin, and 
I wish everbody ’d heard that report. IVe 
learned a good deal I didn’t know before, and 
I guess other folks have too.” 

The three deacons opposed to the temper- 
ance movement, not only remained away from 
this meeting themselves, but forbade any mem- 
ber of their families being present. ‘“You’ll 
stay at home, sir,” Deacon Flanders had said 
to his oldest son, who asked permission to 
go to the town-house. 

“ Better let him go, if he wants to,” said 
his mother. 

“ It’s no place for him,” was the reply. “ I 
know what I’m about, and don’t want any 
interference.” 

There was nothing to do but submit, and 
Eleazer Flanders remained at home that even- 
ing, wondering if it was his duty to obey so 
unreasonable a command. Just before time for 
retiring, his father mixed a glass of liquor and 
offered him a share, but this he positively 
refused. 


A REPORT OE RUM’s DOIKGS. 203 

^^Take it,’^ was said sternly. 

** No, sir, I don’t want it,” was the answer. 
“I don’t need it.” 

'' I’m the best judge of what you need. 
Drink !” 

“ Husband, let the boy do as he’s a mind 
to about that,” exclaimed Mrs. Flanders, lay- 
ing down her knitting. “You kept him to 
home from the temperance meetin, and ’taint 
right to make him drink that liquor if he 
don’t want it. — Leazer, I’m glad you don’t 
want it,” she added, turning to her son. 

This recalled the deacon to the wrong he 
would have done, and draining the glass him- 
self, he left the room. 

“ It’s a shame I couldn’t go to meetin to- 
night,” said the boy. “ I wouldn’t drinked 
that liquor if he’*d killed me for not doin it. 
I aint goin to drink any more, and he cant 
make me.” 

“I hope you wont,” replied Mrs. Flanders. 
“ I don’t want to encourage your disobeyin 
your father, but he’s a good deal stirred up 


204 


OLD TIMES. 


now, and goes too far. I’m sorry, but I can’t 
help it.” 

“ Father’s wrong, and the minister’s right. 
I’ve heard enough to know that, if I aint 
but fifteen years old. Father’s always scoldin 
about Uncle Lem, and all that ails him is 
drinkin liquor. If it wasn’t for that, he’d 
be the best man in town. Don’t you suppose 
he’d leave off and join the society, if you 
asked him, mother?” 

I don’t know, Leazer. I don’t see him 
very often. Your father don’t want him to 
come here, and he knows it; and ’taint more’n 
once or twice a year I can get a chance to 
ride over there. Most I hear of him’s by 
Basby Turner. She and your Aunt Sally 
were always great friends, and Basby goes 
there as often as she can.”* 

Can’t we go over there sometime together, 

mother? Father aint usin the horse, and I 

% 

can drive as well as he can.” 

‘‘There aint nothin to hinder if he’s willin, 
and I’ll ask him about it to-morrow, if he 


A REPORT OF RUM’S DOINGS. 


205 


feels pretty well. I wish Brother Lem would 
do better.” 

I wish so too, mother, and there aint but 
one way. John Whitney told me that Mr. 
Hudson said there was some folks couldn’t 
help bein drunkards if they drinked any 
liquor at all, and I believe Uncle Lem’s one 
of them.” 

“ I’m afraid he is, and it makes me feel 
bad when I think of him,” was the reply. 
** He was a good brother when we were to 
home together. Mother always went to 
him when she wanted anything done, and 
I thought more of him than I did of all the 
rest. Father used to say he ought to been 
a girl, he was so tender-hearted.” 

** Well, mother, we’ll try to reform him 
and the boy’s face grew radiant with this 
resolve. 

Perhaps no one else in town had thought 
of the reform of Lemuel Weston, although 
his good qualities were acknowledged by all. 
But Eleazer Planders was in earnest, and 


206 


OLD TIMES. 


would not be easily turned from his purpose. 
What he heard of the temperance meeting, 
and especially of what George Hudson had 
said, only confirmed him in his decisions. 

I never ’ll drink another drop of liquor 
as long as I live,” he said to himself, on 
his way home from school. I’ll join the 
temperance society as soon as I’m twenty- 
one, and I’ll do all I can to help it along 
before then.” 

Deacon Flanders, somewhat ashamed of 
his conduct the previous evening, had been 
unusually gracious during the day, and at 
once acceded to his wife’s proposal to visit 
her brother. 

I want Leazer to go with me,” she said. 

‘‘Well, I don’t know as I’ve any objections, 
only Lem aint the right kind of a man for 
him to be with.” 

There was more hope for the drunkard than 
for this moderate drinker, secure in his own 
vaunted strength. 


UNCLE LEM. 


207 


CHAPTER XII. 

UNCLE LEM- 

ATHP^R! father! here is Aunt 
Susan and Leazerl” exclaimed lit- 
tle Abby Weston, running to the 
window, and clapping her hands 

in delight. 

Susan come ?” asked the man in reply. 
Pm always glad to see her, but we aint very 
well off to have company to-day, be we, Sally? 
I ought to got some flour and other things 
yesterday. I’m sorry it happened so, Susan 
don’t come very often and with these words 
he opened the door to welcome his visitors. 

Glad to see you, sister, though you’ve come 
to a poor place. Leazer, how you do grow; 
I can’t hardly keep track of you. Go right 
in, both of you, and I’ll take care the horse.’* 
By this time Mrs. Weston, who had stopped 



208 


OLD TIMES. 


to brush the hearth and push a table from 
the middle of the floor, came forward, with 
two children clinging to her dress. 

‘‘Good mornin, Sally. You and the chil- 
dren well this mornin asked her sister-in- 
law. 

“ I aint very well,” replied the poor woman ; 
“ I’ve had the headache, and haint been 
hardly able to keep round this week. Lea- 
zer, how do you do ?” 

“ O, I’m well,” was the hearty response. 
“ I’m always well when things go to suit 
me, and I’m just exactly suited this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Well, I’m glad if you are,” said his aunt, 
smiling, despite both headache and heartache. 
“ The children were talkin about you yester- 
day. Abby remembered the nuts and apples 
you brought her the last time you was 
here.” 

“ And I brought something for her and 
Sophy this time. I didn’t forget them,” and 
he drew his cousins gently from their mother. 


UNCLE LEM. 


209 


We are going to have a good visit to- 
gether to-day.” 

While this was said, Mrs. Flanders had 
laid aside her cloak and hood, taken a hasty 
survey of the room, and satisfied herself 
that her visit was inopportune. The breakfast 
had been* so scanty that not a crumb was 
left. A bone had been scraped until it was 
polished like ivory, and there were some 
potatoes on the hearth ready for roasting. 

This was the home of a naturally kind- 
hearted man, and such the provision he made 
for his family. How poor and wretched ! 
How degraded he felt himself, lingering in 
the old tumble-down barn, trying to devise 
some plan by which a comfortable dinner 
could be provided. He had professed to 
spend the last fortnight in hunting, but this 
was only an excuse for idle dissipation, while 
those wdio looked to him for support had 
lived on coarse and meagre fare. 

His calculations were interrupted by the 
cheerful voice of his nephew. “ I was afraid 
u 


210 


OLD TIMES. 


you’d forget I was here, Uncle Lem, and I 
came on purpose to see you.” 

‘‘Did you? Well, you’re a good boy, and 
I’m glad to see you. I’m ready to go in 
now, though I don’t know but I’ve got to 
go to the village this forenoon.” 

‘‘ What, to-day, uncle ? That ’ll take all 
the time, and I shant see you any. Go to- 
morrow; wont that do just as well?” 

‘‘ No, ’twont, Leazer. I’m sorry, but — I’ll 
go in and see your mother.” 

Yet he made some excuse for delaying, 
so that Eleazer had ample time to return 
to the house, and tell his mother that 
Uncle Lem talked of going to the village. 
“Don’t let him, will you, mother?” added 
the boy. 

“ We’ll see,” was the reply. “ Bring in the 
box and jug.” 

Mrs. Weston was even more anxious than 
her husband in regard to the dinner. To 
borrow, she was ashamed, and beg she would 
not, while it was utterly impossible for her 


UNCLE LEM. 


211 


to buy. So painfully conscious was she of 
their poverty, that she could with ^difficulty 
sustain her part of the conversation. 

I suppose you don’t have milk,” said Mrs. 
Flanders. 

“ No, only when the neighbors bring in 
some. I wanted Lemuel to keep a cow last 
year, but he didn’t.” 

“Well, I brought over some milk, and a few 
other things. I hope you wont be affronted, 
Sally.” 

“ No, Susan, I’ll be thankful. We never 
were quite so bad off before, as we are now. 
I haint anything in the house but a little 
meal and some potatoes, and when they’re 
gone, I don’t know where the next meal’s 
comin from. Lemuel haint done much work 
lately, and I’m most discouraged. I wish 
you’d talk with him. He thought some about 
goin to the temperance meetins, but your 
husband told him he’d better not. I wish 
he hadn’t said so, for Lemuel needs to go. 
Bashy Turner talked to him when she was 


212 


OLD TIMES. 


up here, till he most promised her he’d go 
once.” 

Eleazer came in with the box, and its con- 
tents were displayed. Cakes for the children, 
bread, pies, cooked meat, butter, cheese, and 
maple sugar. 

Here’s enough to last you a day or two, 
and I filled the largest jug I had with milk,” 
said the donor of this food. Most likely it’ll 
come cold, so you can freeze up the milk, and 
keep it quite a spell.” 

“ O, can’t I have some to drink ?” cried 
Sophy, the youngest child. 

“Yes, dear, you can have all you want,” 
replied her aunt; and the child w^as made 
happy by having her tin cup filled with the 
nourishing drink. 

Abby, too, presented her cup, and the chil- 
dren were enjoying the rich treat of cakes and 
milk when their father came in. 

“ I’ll give you a piece, pa,” said Sophy, 
reaching out her cake to him. “Aunt Susan 
brought it.” 


UNCLE LEM. 


213 


“Yes, and mother’s got a lot of things,” 
added Abby. “Why don’t we have some 
all the time ? Shouldn’t you like meat and 
pies better than roast potatoes? I think I 
should.” 

Lemuel Weston stood, confused and ashamed. 
“ I don’t want any cake,” he said at length. 
“Eat it yourselves. Susan, you’re a good 
sister,” he added. “ I’m sorry them things 
were needed, but I guess there aint much 
in the house to eat. I haint done just right 
by my family.” 

“ Nor by yourself either. Brother Lem. I 
want you to do different. There aint no need 
of your bein poor. Leazer and I wanted to 
come over, purpose to talk with you. He 
thinks a good deal of you, and these large 
temperance meetins in town have stirred him 
up.” 

“ Does Leazer go ?” 

“No, he don’t. But he would if his father 
were willin, and I try to encourage him all I 
can. I’m sorry the deacon don’t see things 


214 


OLD TIMES. 


in a little different light. If I was a man, Fd 
join the temperance society the first thing I 
done.” 

“You would, Susan?” 

“Yes, I would.” 

“ So would I, Uncle Lem,” chimed in Elea- 
zer. “ It’s a shame I can’t now, but I shall be 
twenty-one if I live long enough, and then 
you’ll see what I’ll do. I’ve took the pledge 
now just as strong as though I’d signed my 
name in one of the meetings. I never ’ll 
drink another drop of liquor as long as I live. 
Never!” added the boy, with an emphasis 
which showed how thoroughly in earnest he 
was. “ Come, Uncle Lem, you make the same 
promise, and see how much better off you’ll 
be in a year from now. Didn’t you hear Mr. 
Safford’s sermon ?” 

“ No, Leazer, I didn’t.” 

“ Well, you ought to, and everybody else. 
He kept us boys awake, and some of us 
remember what he said.” 

“ Why, you’re a real cold water man, aint 


UNCLE LEM. 


215 


you, Leazer?” said Mr. Weston with a forced 
laugh. 

“Yes, I am, and you ought to be. If you 
was, you'd live in a better house, and have 
better things.” 

“ Leazer !” There was a reproof in this one 
word spoken by his mother, and he made an 
awkward apology for his last remarks. 

“ Don’t say anything about it,” responded 
his uncle. “You told the truth, and I. know 
it. I drink too much liquor, but I’ve got so 
used to it, I don’t know as I could leave it oT 
if I tried.” 

“Yes, you could. Uncle Lem. There’s no 
need of drinking, if you don’t want to. I 
know / can help it.” 

“ It’s different with you, Leazer. You haint 
got such a habit as I have.” 

“Can’t you give it up,' brother? You’ve 
got to grow better or worse, and it don’t seem 
as though we could bear to have you any 
worse. Mother feels bad about you.” 

“ I know it, Susan, and I feel bad about it 


216 


OLD TIMES. 


myself. I wish sometimes Td never been born. 
Yes, I do wish^so;” and the unhappy man 
threw himself into a chair and wept. His 
children ran to him, but he put them gently 
aside without answering their questions. 

What can I do, Susan ? Tell me, and I’ll 
try. You’ll wish you hadn’t come to-day; we 
never were quite so bad off before. I’ve been 
growin worse.” 

“There aint but one thing for you to do,’* 
replied Mrs. Flanders, speaking calmly and 
decidedly. 

“What is that?” asked her brother. 

“Make the same promise Leazer has, and 
keep it. There aint no other way for you 
ever to be any better than you be now.” 

“ But father always took spirit, and he wan’t 
hurt by it. He was a good man.” 

“ I know he was, but he might been better 
if he hadn’t drinked any liquor. Folks didn’t 
understand about it then. I wish you’d heard 
Mr. Safford, and I wish you could hear Mrs. 
Holden.” 


UNCLE LEM. 


217 


'*rve heard Bashy Turner talk/^ was the 
reply. She’s a good deal engaged. I guess 
I should gone to the last temperance meetin 
if it hadn’t been for your husband.” 

Don’t mind what father says about it,” 
exclaimed Eleazer. He’s dreadful set, and 
on the wrong side too. He kept me to home 
when I wanted to go, but he wont keep me 
always, and he wont make me drink liquor, 
either. Come, Uncle Lem, do promise, wont 
you? I come over purpose to get you to say 
you wouldn’t drink any more.” 

Mrs. Weston had never thought of asking 
her husband to become a total abstainer. She 
only wished him to drink moderately, not 
knowing, in her ignorance,, that this was irn- 
possible. 

I was going to the village to get some 
things,” he said at length. “ There aint any 
tea in the house, and we shall want some for 
dinner.” 

“ No, we shant,” replied his sister. ** We’ll 
have some corn coffee. That’ll be good enough, 


218 


OLD TIMES. 


with sugar and milk. I want to see you, and 
rd rather not have any dinner than have you 
go off. Stay, and we’ll have a good visit, just 
as we used to. I wish mother was here.^^ 

Lemuel Weston did not echo this wish, 
although he loved his mother. His home was 
no place for her. 

‘‘ You’d better make a fire in the other 
room,” said his wife. “ Then you and Susan 
can talk there by yourselves, while I sweep 
and clean up here. We didn’t get up very 
early this morning, and my work’s all be- 
hind.” 

Fortunately there was plenty of wood, so 
this suggestion was received with favor, and a 
fire was speedily kindled. Eleazer produced 
the nuts and apples he had brought, occupying 
one corner with his cousins, who forgot all 
trouble while listening to his amusing stories. 

Father tells us stories sometimes,” whis- 
pered Abby. 

Father’s got a black bottle he drinks some- 
thing out of,” added Sophy. '‘Have you one?’' 


UNCLE LEM. 


219 


'*No, I hope not/’ was the reply. don’t 
like black bottles.” 

I don’t either. I wish father didn’t have 
one. Mother always looks sorry when he 
takes it out of the cupboard.” 

Not for many months had there been such 
a well-spread table in this poor house, nor so 
cheerful a group gathered around it. The 
family were dressed in their best, clean, and 
with neatly combed hair. The children were 
delighted, wishing they could have such a 
dinner every day. 

“ I wish we could,” said their mother, with 
a sigh. “ If there was any way I could earn 
it, I would.” Her husband rose and left the 
table. “ I’m sorry I said any thing,” she 
added. ‘‘ I wish I hadn’t, he lays it so to 
heart, but I’ve wished a good many times I 
could earn something myself I can’t though, 
as I aint very strong, and it’s as much as I can 
do to do my own work.” 

“ Don’t blame yourself in the least, Sally. 
The fault aint with you, and we all know 


220 


OLD TIMES. 


it very well. I guess I’ll have a talk with 
brother Lem.” 

The interview between brother and sister 
was so prolonged, that those who waited in 
the adjoining room became impatient. When 
they appeared, the face of one was smiling, 
while that of the other was serious and 
earnest. 

Now sit down, and finish your dinner,’' 
said Mrs. Weston 

Yes, Sally, we’ll sit right down. We’ve 
kept things waitin a good while, but we had a 
good deal to say. Come, brother.” 

“I don’t want any more dinner,” was the 
reply. 

Well, sit down and drink some coffee with 
me. We don’t have a chance to be together 
very often, and I think this coffee’s pretty 
good.” 

“’Tis good,” was replied; and the speaker 
sat down, while his children clung to him, 
eager to know what troubled him. 

“Aint you going to make that promise?” 


UKCLE LEM. 


221 


asked Eleazer in a coaxing tone. Do, and 
then we’ll see how much better off we’ll be.” 

You’re well enough off,” was the evasive 
reply. 

No, I aint. I can’t go to the temperance 
meetings, and I want you to go for me. 
Wont you go to the next one.” 

“What? Down to number one? It’s a 
long tramp down there.” 

“ I know it, but you tramp as far as that, 
hunting.” 

“ So I do, Leazer, and taint no use makin 
excuses. I’ll go if I’m able to, and most 
likely I shall be.” 

“ Good ! Now wont you promise about the 
liquor.” 

“ Ask your mother about that, when you’re 
goin home,” answered Lem Weston ; and a 
glance from his mother warned the boy to 
say no more on the subject. 


222 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

THE SCHOOLMASTER’S “ LECTUR.” 

E’VE had a good visit, and I guess 
we’ve done some good too,” said 
Mrs. Flanders, when alone with her 
son. “ Your uncle promised not to 
drink any liquor for a month, and I’m in 
hopes he’ll give it up for the rest of his 
life. If your father wasn’t so opposed. I’d 
ask Mr. Gibson to talk to him ; but I don’t 
feel like sayin much now.” 

guess Bashy Turner ’ll ask him,” replied 
Eleazer. She knows all about temperance. 
I’m glad you took that Box. If Uncle Lem 
had gone to the village he might got drunk.” 

‘‘ May be,” answered Mrs. Flanders ; and 
then they lapsed into silence, thinking, per- 
haps, of the reception they would meet at 
home. 



THE schoolmaster’s “ lectur.” 223 

Deacon Porter had been moved to call 
upon his brother, and the interview had not 
increased the amiability of this brother. Few 
questions were asked that evening, except by 
the children, who felt themselves aggrieved 
by being left at home. 

Deacon Porter’s been here, and he thinks 
we’d better have a church meetin, and express 
our minds about Mr. Gibson,” said Deacon 
Flanders to his wife. “I don’t know just 
what to think about it. Mr. Gibson’s a good 
man, but he’s goin too far. Scriptur wont 
bear him out in it, and I’m afraid there’s got 
to be a division in the church. Deacon Cra- 
gin and Deacon Campbell are ready to go all 
lengths, and some of the women seem about 
crazy. There’s Bashy Turner talkin to every- 
body, and determined to be heard. She 
ought to know her place.” 

‘‘ She does, and fills it well,” was the reply. 
** She kept her father and mother off from the 
town, and if anybody’s a right to talk about 
temperance she has. She’s a good woman, and 


224 


OLD TIMES. 


it’s a pity there wasn’t more like her. She 
never misses a chance to do anybody a good 
turn. That winter you was so sick she did more 
for you than I could, with a baby in my arms, 
and you’d never come through that sickness 
if it hadn’t been for her. Don’t say a word 
against Bashy. We all know she speaks 
right out just what she thinks; but she don’t 
mean any hurt.” 

I know that, but she don’t show any 
moderation. The temperance folks are all 
right with her, and every body else all 
wrong.” 

Well, husband, I guess it’s so. I’m of 
Bashy’s mind, and if you won’t help the 
society along, I hope you wont try to hinder 
it.” 

The deacon looked at his wife in astonish- 
ment. ‘‘ Who’ve you seen ? Who’s been 
talkin with you ?” he asked. 

“I’ve seen brother Lem and his wife; they 
are very poor; and I’ve been talkin with 
them and Leazer.” 


THE schoolmaster’s ‘‘ lectur.” 225 

** Leazer’s got a good many foolish notions 
in his head; I must get them out” 

‘‘Well, don’t ever try to make him drink 
liquor again,” said his mother; “I’m on his 
side about that. I don’t want him to turn 
out as some other boys have here in Hard- 
hack, and he shan’t, if I can help it.” 

Not often did Mrs. Flanders assert her 
independence in this way. It was easier to 
yield than to oppose her husband, but in this 
case she was determined to stand by her son. 

“ I know what’s best for Leazer,” was the 
response ; “ I’m his father.” 

“And I’m his mother, husband. If he 
never drinks any liquor, he can’t be a drunk- 
ard, and I mean he shall keep on the safe 
side.” 

“Then you’re goin to encourage him in 
disobedience,” said the deacon, sternly. 

“ I’m goin to encourage him in temper- 
ance, and I hope he’ll grow up to be a good 
man. We’ve got other children, too, and it’s 
our duty to keep them from temptation as 


226 


OLD TIMES. 


much as we can. I’ve heard you say that a 
good many times.” 

The deacon, somewhat mollified by this 
last remark, and being really a Christian, 
although strangely blind in this matter, an- 
swered seriously: want to do my duty to 

my children, but I don’t want Leazer to set 
himself up to know more’n I do ; ’taint 
accordin to Scriptur.” 

'' Do you want him to drink as much liquor 
as you do ?” asked Mrs. Flanders. 

I don’t drink much,” was the evasive 
reply. 

*‘You drink in the morning.” 

“Yes; my stomach feels bad, and I need 
a little spirit.” 

“Then you generally drink at noon.” 

“ Sometimes.” 

“Then if anybody comes in — ” 

“ I must be sociable, you know, and offer 
somethin to company.” 

“Then you drink again before you go to 
bed; that makes four times a day.” 


THE schoolmaster’s “ lectur. 227 

But don’t you take a little spirit yourself, 
wife ?” 

“I know I have. I ‘thought I must; but 
I’ve got done with it. Leazer and I have 
took a pledge by ourselves, and we’re goin to 
keep it, no matter what happens. I hope 
Brother Lem will join us. Leazer’s all en- 
gaged about it, and his uncle thinks so much 
of him, I guess he’ll bring it about.” 

Lem’s growin worse and worse. Some- 
body told me yesterday that he hadn’t done 
a day’s work for a month.” 

‘*You know what’s the matter with him, 
husband. If he’d let liquor alone he’d do 
well enough.” 

There aint no need of goin all lengths, 
as he does. He and some others go as far 
one way, as the temperance folks do the 
other. I believe in a middlin course.” 

‘‘ Well, if you do, take it for yourself, but 
don’t try to make other folks. There’s them 
that can’t, and Brother Lem’s one of them. 
He’s promised to go to the next temperance 


228 


OLD TIMES. 


meetin, and I hope you wont say nothing to 
discourage him.” 

‘"I don’t have much to do with him, and 
don’t want to, as long as he goes on so.” 

“ But you have said somethin to him about 
the temperance meetins.” 

Well, yes, I guess I did,” replied the 
deacon, with some hesitation. I wont say 
no more though. He can do as he’s a mind 
to, for all me. I wish Mr. Safford had preached 
a gospel sermon when he come over here. 
There’s more division in the church than 
there ever was before. There’s Deacon Cra- 
gin and Deacon Campbell — we’ve always 
agreed till now, and I don’t see what turned 
Deacon Campbell. When he was here visitin, 
he thought just as the rest of us did.” 

“Perhaps he heard about Horace. You 
know you said the deacon would have trouble 
with him, and if a man wants his children 
to do right, he must do right himself. It’s 
always best to be on the safe side.” 

This conversation produced a decided effect 


THE schoolmaster’s ‘‘ lectur.” 229 

upon Deacon Flanders, and he said less in 
regard to the mooted question; and when Mr. 
Gibson preached an earnest, practical sermon 
upon temperance, he made no unkind criti- 
cisms. 

It’s our dooty to call a meetin of the 
church,” said Deacon Porter, greatly exas- 
perated. ‘‘Folks are gettin to think more 
of this new kind of doctrine than they do 
of the Bible. There wasn’t but six to the 
prayer-rneetin. I called Wednesday night, 
and the school-house in number one was 
full. There’s no tellin where this ’ll stop, 
if there aint somethin done. Deacon Willey 
stands back, and the brunt of it comes on 
us. Brother^ Flanders. Can’t you come over 
some time this week ?” 

“ Not this week,” was the answer. “ I’ve 
got to be busy, and I don’t think it’s best 
to make trouble for Mr. Gibson. He means 
well, and he told a good deal of truth to-day, 
deacon. You can’t deny that.” 

“I aint goin to say nothin about that. I 


230 


OLD TIMES. 


tried to fix my mind on spiritooal things. I 
want to hear Scriptur preached.” 

“ There was a good deal of Scriptur in the 
sermon,” replied Deacon Flanders; but this 
assertion went for nothing with his com- 
panion. 

The strongest temperance men in Hard- 
hack, if the minister be excepted, lived in 
district number one ; and they, with the aid 
of the new teacher, succeeded in making their 
meetings attractive and interesting. There 
was sure to be a full house, as, in addition 
to those who really loved the cause, some 
went from curiosity, some to hear the singing, 
and some to meet their friends. 

George Hudson was invited to read an 
essay, or, as the old folks said, to “ give a 
lectur,” and it was generally known that he 
had accepted the invitation. Of course, a 
crowd was expected, but so much had been 
said in regard to the town-house being used, 
that it was thought best not to go there. The 
school-house was full long before the ap- 


THE SCHOOLMASTER S LECTUR.” 231 

pointed time, and still people refused to go 
away, after being told that they could not 
even find standing room. 

‘‘ Come to-morrow night, and Mr. Hudson 
will repeat his lectur,” at length said Deacon 
Cragin to those who waited. 

Lem Weston heard this message, and said, 
‘‘ I cant come to-morrow night. I’ve walked 
three miles in the snow, and I don’t want to 
go home without hearin somethin.” 

Well, we’ll try and make room for you 
some way,” responded the deacon. ‘"Six miles 
is a pretty long tramp for one night. I guess 
one of my boys will give up his seat, and wait 
till to-morrow.” 

“Who is it, father?” asked Jim, when told 
that his seat was wanted for some one else. 

“ Lem Weston,” was the whispered reply. 
“ He says he can’t come to-morrow, and you 
can.” 

“ I’ll go,” said the boy quickly. “ I guess 
he’ll sign the paper, but he’s bigger than I be, 
and will want more room. Come, Sam, you 


232 


OLD TIMES. 


go with me/^ he added, addressing Sam Glines. 
‘‘ ril tell your mother about it, and she’ll let 
you come again to-morrow.” 

These two boys going out, there was room 
for Mr. Weston; and Mr. Hudson observing 
this, proposed that all his scholars should 
leave the house. 

‘‘ I will repeat my essay to-morrow evening, 
and endeavor to make it a pleasant occasion 
for us all,” he said. “ Of course I have no 
authority to command you, but I shall consider 
it a personal favor if you will do so.” 

Every scholar moved, anxious to oblige 
their teacher, even at the cost of some self- 
denial, comforting themselves with the thought 
that to-morrow would soon come. No one 
else was obliged to leave, except a few who 
lived near, and thus all dissatisfaction was 
avoided. 

Somebody must been tellin him about me,” 
thought Lemuel Weston as he listened. '' He 
means me all the time and yet the poor, un- 
fortunate man was not angry. Thankful that 


THE schoolmaster’s “ LECTUR.” 


233 


his long walk was not in vain, he counted him- 
self privileged in hearing what was said. 

George Hudson, understanding the people 
to whom he was speaking, indulged in no 
flowers of rhetoric, but talked straight on, 
calling sin and debauchery by their rightful 
names. He related some anecdotes, drew 
illustrations from every-day life, and enforced 
all by an appeal to the Bible. 

How everybody wished the incorrigible 
deacons were present ! With what a triumph- 
ant air Bashy Turner looked round upon the 
audience ! She had gained some new argu- 
ments with which to assail the strongholds 
of prejudice and opposition. 

She did not take notes, but she could re- 
member, and Deacon Flanders would be sure 
to hear a synopsis of the lecture. If he could 
be convinced, a great point would be gained, 
and she had some hope of this. She had 
called at Lemuel Weston’s since the visit of 
his sister and nephew, and there learned much 
which encouraged her. I guess he’ll come 


234 


OLD TIMES. 


round,” she said when speaking of the deacon. 
“ He’s dreadful set, but means to do right, and 
we’re goin to have new light on this thing.” 

After Mr. Hudson had concluded, there was 
an opportunity to join the society, and Deacon 
Cragin made a few remarks in regard to it. 
He spoke of his own experience, assuring his 
friends and neighbors that abstinence had been 
of great benefit to him. 

“ I don’t feel half so cold and shaky in a 
cold mornin, as I used to,” he said. I 
don’t feel half so cross, either, and I can 
work easier than I used to. Things go along 
to suit me, and every day I live, I believe 
more and more in temperance. I don’t know 
but you’ll get tired of hearin me talk, but 
I’m anxious to have you all try this good 
way of livin. We aint goin to tell you what 
you shall do, and what you shunt, but if you 
want to be well and happy, and get fore- 
handed, you’d better join our society, and 
help us along. I hope we shall have some 
new names to-night.” 


THE schoolmaster’s “ lectur.” 235 

Lemuel Weston trembled as he rose to go 
forward. Realizing the struggle total absti- 
nence would cost him, he could not take 
the pledge unmoved. All eyes were fixed 
upon him, and many breathed a silent prayer 
as he took up the pen to sign his name. 
Then came the question. Would he keep this 
pledge? - For then, as now, drunkenness so 
blunted the moral sensibilities of its victims, 
that promises were lightly made and lightly 
broken. 

One month had this man resisted tempta- 
tion, endured the jeers of his companions, 
and battled with his own depraved appetite. 
Standing now where two ways met, one 
leading upward and the other downward, 
he made deliberate choice between the two. 
There was a breathless silence as he turned 
again to the large audience, with face pale 
and haggard, yet eloquent with a firm re- 
solve. 

He was making his way to the door, when 
Deacon Campbell whispered, I want to see. 


286 


OLD TIMES. 


you after the meetin. I want to get you 
to work for me/* 

I’ll wait out doors,” was the reply. ‘‘ I 
can’t stay here.” 

The deacon followed him out. ‘‘I’m glad 
for what you’ve done to-niglit, Lem. You’ll 
be glad all your life,” and two hard hands 
were^ clasped in sympathy. “ We’ve all been 
wrong about drinking, and it’s high time we 
started right. I wouldn’t go back for any- 
thing. You wont, I know.” 

“ I don’t mean to go back,’’ answered Mr. 
Weston. “ But it’s goin to be hard work 
for me.” 

“ Don’t let it be hard work ; and that makes 
me think what I wanted to see you for. I’ve 
just made up my mind to get out some 
lumber this winter, and I can’t do it alone 
very well. If you’re a mind to help me, I 

guess we can agree about wages. What 

? )» 

“I’ll come,” was the quick response. “I 
shall be glad to, but — ” 


THE schoolmaster’s “ lectur.” 237 

“ But what, Lem ? Say anything you 
want to.” 

“ Well, my family aint very well off, 
and — ” 

‘‘You want to be paid as you go along?’' 

“Yes, at first,” said the man, with a sigh 
of relief. “ If you’d let me have some meat, 
and a bushel or two of grain, ’twould be a 
great help;” 

“You can have the grain. There wont be 
no trouble about that ; and I’ll expect you 
in the morning as early as you’re a mind to 
come.” 

By the time this matter was settled the 
meeting was closed, and others coming out, 
Lemuel Weston walked rapidly away. In 
no mood for talking or receiving congratula- 
tions, he hurried on, until some one sprang 
into the path before him, with a shout which 
really startled him. 

“ Why, Uncle Lem, did I scare you ?” asked 
Eleazer Flanders. “ I didn’t mean to, but I’ve 
been waiting here ever so long, and I was 


238 


OLD TIMES. 


afraid I should miss seeing you.” — All this in 
one breath, with chattering teeth, which did 
not add to the distinctness of his words. 

‘‘You’re half froze, Leazer,” said his uncle. 
‘‘You shouldn’t staid here so, in the cold.” 

“ But I wanted to be sure and see you, 
and I was afraid you’d get by if I staid over 
to Mr. Grannis’ any longer. Did you sign the 
paper?” 

“ Yes, Leazer, I did. Tell your mother; and 
tell her, too. I’m going to work for Deacon 
Campbell — goin to begin in the mornin, and 
there wont be no more trouble at our house.” 

“ Good ! Good !” shouted Eleazer, until the 
blood tingled in his veins, and the hills echoed 
back the sound. “I’m warm enough now, and 
I guess I’d better go home. ’Taint very late, 
is it ?” he added, looking up to the moon. 

“No, it’s early yet. You’ll be home soon 
enough. Run along and tell your mother. 
Good night.” 

“Good night:” and so they parted, just in 
time to escape the observation of a company 


THE schoolmaster’s “ LECTUR.” 


239 


of young people, who wondered what was 
going on out in the woods. 

I’m in good season, aint I, mother ?” said 
Eleazer, as he sprang into the kitchen, which 
served as a family sitting-room. 

“Yes, very good,” was the reply. 

“You done pretty well,” added the beacon. 
^VAll well where you’ve been ?’ 

“Yes, sir; the boys had all gone to th^ 
temperance meetin.” 

“ Did Mr. Grannis let his boys go to that 
meetin ?” 

“Yes, sir. He said they wouldn’t get any 
hurt there as long as the minister goes. Uncle 
Lem went. I see him goin and comin, and he 
told me to tell you, mother, that he’d joined 
the society, and was goin to work for Deacon 
Campbell. He’s goin to begin to-morrow 
mornin, and I’m awful glad of it. Uncle 
Lem’s a real good man, and you’ll see now 
that he wont always be so poor. Bashy 
Turner said he’d lay up money fast as anybody 
if he’d stop drinkin, and now he’s stopped.” 


240 


OLD TIMES. 


Deacon Flanders seemed busy with his 
account book, but the figures danced so before 
his eyes, that it was quite impossible for him 
to make any calculations. He did not scold, 
did not command his son to keep silence, or 
even frown a reproof. The younger children 
were in bed, and as Eleazer sat silently looking 
into the fire, seeing pictures which no one else 
could see, it was not strange that his parents 
should indulge in serious thoughts. 

The deacon had no intention of yielding to 
the pressure of the influence he could not but 
feel. He would not retreat from the position 
he had at first taken upon the subject of tem- 
perance, yet he was ready to acknowledge 
that all had a right to their own opinion ; and 
after carefully considering the matter, thought 
best to make no further opposition. So much 
he had said to Deacon Porter, proposing for 
himself a neutral rather than a “ iniddhn ” 
ground, as he had first announced. 


LUMBERING. 


241 


CHAPTER XIV. 

LUMBERING. 

HE next morning Mrs. Weston rose 
very early, to prepare breakfast for 
her husband, although he assured 
her that it was not necessary. You 
and the children will need what there is,” he 
said, kindly. 

“There’ll be enough left for us,” she an- 
swered with a smile which was almost bright. 
“We’ve got plenty, and I’m so happy. I 
don’t want much to eat. I’ll make some 
spider cakes for the children, so they’ll have 
a treat.” 

“ O, Sally, what a wretch I’ve been !” ex- 
claimed Lemuel Weston. “ When you pro- 
mised to be my wife, you didn’t expect to 
live in such a poor place as this, and I didn’t 
expect it neither. But there’s better days 
16 



242 


OLD TIMES. 


comin. You shan’t always live so, if I’m 
able to work. I shan’t get home very early 
to-night. Good-by.” He stooped to kiss his 
wife, adding, “ Keep that to remember me 
by, and be as comfortable as you can.” 

She watched him as he started on his 
long walk, and then sat down by the fire 
to think of her happiness. For the last 
month she had rejoiced with trembling, now 
she felt assured of prosperity. She occupied 
herself with plans for improving the appear- 
ance of her home. She could not reset glass 
in broken windows, but she could conceal 
some of the cracks in the warped ceiling, 
and make the floor clean, so that her hus- 
band would note the change. 

Thus she thought of him, while with each 
step he trod beneath the paling light of the 
stars, he seemed drawn more closely to the 
wife and children he had so long neglected. 
He was strong that morning, for he had 
lifted his heart to God in prayer, and all 
things were possible to him. 


LUMBERING. 


243 


Deacon Campbell’s family were sitting down 
to breakfast when he knocked at the door, 
and obeyed the summons to enter. 

There’s a seat for you,” said Mrs. Camp- 
bell, pointing to an empty chair. “ We 
expected you.” 

“You’ve had a cold walk,” remarked the 
deacon. 

“ Rather cold, though I didn’t think much 
about it,” was the reply. “ I took breakfast 
before I come from home.” 

“ No matter for that. You need more by 
this time. Sit down and eat with us, so 
we can start the day fair. You and I’ve 
got quite a job on hand. I’ve made up my 
mind to build a good sized barn next sea- 
son. Horace is a pretty good joiner, and I 
want to build it while I’m sure of his help. 
Sit down and eat:” and thus urged, the new- 
comer seated himself at the table, where he 
proved that a long walk in a cold morn- 
ing was a sufficient stimulant to the appe- 
tite. 


244 


OLD TIMES. 


Breakfast over, a chapter in the Bible was 
read, and prayer offered. Even then it was 
early, but each member of the household was 
ready for his or her allotted task. 

‘‘ I don’t see but what you’ll have to go to 
mill, George,” said his father. Your mother 
thinks she can’t spare two bushels of flour out 
of her chest, and I want to send as much as 
that over to Weston’s to-night. I guess they’re 
pretty short. Can’t you manage it some way 
so to go without losing any lessons?” 

‘‘ If I can go right off. I shant lose anything 
but reading.” 

Then start. We’ll get the chores done 
some way. Mother, you’ll have a good dinner 
ready by twelve, wont you ? A cold lunch 
wont be just the thing for us temperance 
folks.” 

“ I’ll remember you,” said Mrs. Campbell, 
cheerfully. Then the three youngest children, 
too small to be counted in the working force 
of the family, shouted “ Good-by,” as their 
father went out of the house. 


LUMBERING. 


245 


No one in Hardback would ever have 
thought of calling Deacon Campbell a drunk- 
ard, yet he was certainly a very different man 
from what he had been, and his home was very 
different. It was the right place for Lemuel 
Weston, who had been treated in a way to put 
him on his very best behavior. 

The oxen were yoked and ready for a start 
to the woods, when their owner appeared, 
whip in hand. 

“ There, that’s somethin like. I’ve been 
lookin round for somebody to pull even with 
me in the wood-lot, and I guess I’ve hit on the 
right man. You didn’t use to be afraid of 
work, Lem.” 

“ I aint afraid of it now,” was the reply. 
‘‘ I’m ready to do all I’m able to, and I used 
to be reckoned good for a day’s work most 
anywhere.” 

“ Well, we’ll see what we can do,” said the 
deacon. “ Go long, Buck — Gee, Bill. Might 
as well ride,” added their owner, himself 
standing on one of the cross-pieces of the 


246 


OLD TIMES. 


sled. ‘'We had a good meetin last night, 
quite encouragin to the minister. Seen him 
lately, to have any talk with him ?’' 

“ No, I haint,” answered Mr. Weston. “ He 
called round the other day, but I was away to 
work. My wife was to home, and she was 
glad to see him. He’s a good man, I guess ; 
and I mean to go and hear him preach, when 
I can make things come round right:” which 
last remark was understood. 

“ I hope you’ll go, Lem. We want to get 
out all the temperance folks we can, so if there 
comes a pull, bime-by, we can keep up our 
side.” 

‘‘ I aint much of a temperance man, yet,” 
v/as answered. “ I aint but just enlisted, and 
don’t know how I shall hold out.” 

“You must hold out, Lem. ’Twont do to 
put your hand to the plough and look back. 
We want to show the opposers how much 
better ’tis to let liquor alone. They say we’ll 
all give out when it comes to hard work, or 
bein out in the cold ; but I’ve tried it so far, 


LUMBERING. 


247 


this winter, and I haint give up yet. — ^Gee ! 
Gee ! — There, here we are ! You take the trees 
I’ve marked on the right hand, and I’ll keep 
to the left. We’ve got a good start this 
mornin, and we’ll have somethin done before 
noon. My wife ’ll blow the horn time enough 
for dinner at twelve.” 

Directly the ring of two axes told that those 
who wielded them were working with a will, 
needing nothing beyond severe exercise to 
send the blood leaping through their veins. 
With an occasional shout of encouragement 
or praise, the men toiled on until the horn 
sounded, when the trunk of a huge tree was 
rolled to its place on the sled. 

“ We’ve done a good mornin’s work,” said 
the deacon, looking around complacently. 
‘‘ I’ll take this log over to the mill after 
dinner, and we’ll have somethin of a start 
in our lumberin by Saturday night. — Go long ! 
I’ve picked up a sharp appetite somewhere 
among the trees.” 

“Just in time,” said Mrs. Campbell, when 


248 


OLD TIMES. 


her husband entered the kitchen. ** Dinner’s 
all ready to put on the table. I thought I 
calkerlated about right. Got along well with 
Lem?” 

‘‘Yes,” was the decided answer. “If he 
keeps on as he’s begun, he’ll be the best hand 
I ever hired. He’s worked like a trooper this 
mornin. You’ve got some hot coffee, and I’m 
glad of it. I guess we’re both of us pretty 
dry.” 

The oxen were cared for, and Lem Weston 
came in, ready for the dinner, which he ate 
with a hearty relish and a thankful heart. 
Then back to the woods, where he proved 
himself no eye-servant. As the saw-mill 
was not far away, his employer was soon 
with him again, and the afternoon passed 
quickly. 

“Enough for one day,” exclaimed Deacon 
Campbell, when, in the growing darkness, he 
swung his axe wide of the mark. “ George 
is going home with you, to carry some flour 
he got ground this mornin, and you can have 


LUMBERING. 


249 


some pork and beef if you want it. How 
are you out for tea and sugar?” 

I guess there aint any in the house,” 
was the reply. “ I bought some week before 
last, but it must be all gone by this time.” 

“ Well, I guess we can spare some. We 
made a good supply of sugar last year, and 
that makes me think — there’s a good chance 
to make sugar in the woods back of your 
house, on the south side of the hill. Per- 
haps you would like to take it this year.” 

Lemuel Weston went home that night a 
happier man than he had been for many years. 
His children sprang to meet him, his wife 
smiled a welcome, and the old house itself 
seemed more pleasant. Wheat and rye flour, 
pork, beef, sugar and tea were brought in, 
George Campbell wondering at the delight 
manifested. After some delay, spent in dis- 
posing of these stores, bags and pails were 
returned to the sleigh, and Mr. Weston left 
alone with his family. 

** I’ve got supper all ready for you,” said 


250 


OLD TIMES. 


his wife, as soon as she was able to speak. 
“I done the best I could.” 

‘‘ No doubt of it, Sally, but IVe had supper. 
I don’t need any more, but I’m sure you and 
the children do. Make a cake and we’ll all 
sit down together. There’s some butter, aint 
there ?’* 

^^Just a little,” answered Abby, quickly. 

Mother said we’d leave it for you, and so 
we had some molasses.” 

So you thought of me, Sally, bad as I’ve 
been. Let’s have an old-fashioned supper of 
hot cakes and maple sugar, and I guess we 
can all eat. Make a cup of tea, too. We’ll 
have sort of a celebration. Come, children, 
let’s get up in the corner out of the way ;” and 
taking them both in his lap, they watched the 
preparations for supper. “ Mother used to 
say we ought to thank God for every mercy, 
and this is a mercy, Sally. Let us thank him.” 

A few broken sentences were uttered as 
they sat around the table, and thus gratitude 
was expressed. 


LUMBERING. 


251 


If Mr. Gibson could have looked in upon 
this group, he too would have thanked God 
and taken courage. But so important an 
event as Lemuel Weston’s better provision 
for his family could not long remain a secret. 
Bashy Turner, who improved the first oppor- 
tunity to call upon her friend, and learn all that 
had transpired, was glad to spread the good 
news. 

‘^And you expect Lem’s going to keep that 
up right along, do you ?” asked one, who had 
no sympathy with the radicals.” 

“Yes, I do expect it,” was the frank reply. 

“ Then you’ve got to be terribly disap- 
pointed. When a man gets such a taste for 
liquor as he’s got, it takes more than a paper 
promise to keep him from drinking.” 

“Then it’s a dreadful bad taste to get, aint 
it ?” retorted Bashy, with a gleam of triumph 
in her eyes. “ There aint but one safe way, 
and that’s to let it alone. That’s the doctrine 
of the temperance folks, and I’m glad if 
you’ve got so you believe it.” 


252 


OLD TIMES. 


^'Bashy’s a master-hand at talkin,” remarked 
an old woman. ‘‘You’d better mind what 
you say, if you don’t want her to corner you ; 
and she’s right about the liquor.” 

“ Why, grandmother, you goin to turn 
against us?” 

“ I aint goin to turn against nobody,” was 
the reply. “ I’m only against liquor, and I 
always was, except for medicine, and helpin 
anybody along when they’re tired. I’ve seen 
a good deal of drinkin in my day, and I’m 
glad there’s somebody goin to put a stop to 
it. Bashy, you keep on preachin, and tell 
me all that’s goin on.” 

Those who prophesied that Deacon Camp- 
bell would get “sick of his hired man,” 
and those who said the hired man would get 
“ sick of his work,” were both alike mistaken ; 
as were those who prophesied there would 
be trouble in the school of district number 
one. 

Mr. Hudson had no idea of governing his 
scholars with blows or an assumption of un- 


LUMBEllING. 


253 


natural dignity. Out of school, he gave them 
proofs of his physical strength; in school, he 
proved his ability to govern by appealing to 
the best feelings of those under his care. .Of 
course there were croakers in other districts 
where a different order of things prevailed. 
Nobody could manage a Hardback school in 
that way ; and then, moreover, the master was 
meddling with temperance, which he had no 
right to do. His scholars heard this, and 
resolved to stand by him in all things. If he 
wished them to sign the temperance pledge, 
they would do it; and the night he repeated 
his essay, the whole school, except the very 
youngest, was present. Silent and attentive, 
while he read and talked, he then gave them 
permission to enjoy themselves for an hour in 
their own way. 

‘‘ I’m glad we got crowded out last night,” 
said Jim Cragin, to the group of boys around 
him. “ We’ve had a good deal better time, 
and I guess the master has too.” 

At the end of an hour, a tap of the rulei: 


254 


OLD TIMES. 


enjoined silence, when Mr. Hudson told them 
he had a temperance song he would like to 
have them learn. I have but one copy, but 
you can take copies from it, and as the tune 
is a familiar one, I think we can be ready to 
sing it at the ne^t temperance meeting. I 
will read it to you and having done so, 
he asked how many would like to copy it. - 

Every hand was raised ; those who could 
write, and those who could not, being equally 
anxious to obtain it. Copies were multi- 
plied, and the song, one of George Hudson’s 
own composition, became very popular. The 
chorus was shouted at all times and seasons. 
At the next temperance meeting it was sung 
twice, the second time by request, and did 
much to increase the general enthusiasm. 
People could keep their children at home, but 
they could not prevent their learning this 
song, and everybody knows what power 
there is in song. 

Another, set to the tune of Yankee Doodle, 
followed; and this, full of satire and question, 


LUMBERING. 


255 


was even more effective than the first. “Sung 
whenever there was room,” as Jim Cragin 
said, there was not a family in Hardback 
who did not hear at least the chorus. The 
disaffected deacons might frown and shake 
their heads, yet still the refrain rang out 
clear and distinct, the singers declaring it 
to be their duty thus to preach temperance. 

So the good cause progressed, its friends 
growing more hopeful, and its enemies more 
bitter in their opposition. As the winter 
advanced, and the teetotalers endured both 
cold and fatigue even better than when they 
depended upon the fleeting warmth and 
strength induced by stimulants, their experi- 
ence was quoted to prove that alcoholic 
liquor was by no means one of the neces- 
saries of life. 

The first reformers, most of whom had 
been moderate drinkers, both in words and 
deeds settled the one great question, under- 
lying all others, in the temperance movement. 
They made use of stimulants under the most 


256 


OLD TIMES. 


favorable circumstances; when, if ever, brain 
and body would withstand all deleterious 
influences. But even then, physical strength 
was weakened by the use of intoxicating 
liquors, intellect debased, and moral sensi- 
bilities blunted. Then^ as now^ there was 
danger of that state, when all obligations 
forgotten, a deadly appetite holds sway over 
heart and head. 

It is not true that moderate drinking was 
theft, ox is now, conducive to health and hap- 
piness ; neither is it true, as many affirm, 
that there are more drunkards now in our 
land in proportion to the number of inhabi- 
tants, than there were when attention was 
first called to the evils of intemperance. 



A COLD WATER RAISING. 


257 


CHAPTER XV. 

A COLD WATER RAISING. 

RAISING without any rum ! 
Who ever heard of such a thing 
Certainly no one in Hardback. 
It had been proved that corn 
could be husked, trees felled, and all com- 
mon labor performed without this accompani- 
ment, but to raise the heavy timbers of a 
large barn was quite a different affair. 

If Deacon Campbell thinks his barn's 
goin up without liquor, he’ll find himself 
mistaken,” said one and another. Nate Barnes 
swore a terrible oath that it never should go 
up without liquor. Sam Buffy repeated the 
oath, and there were many who encouraged 
them. Some church members were more 
than willing the deacon should be taught 
a lesson, and after all the efforts which had 
17 



258 


OLD TIMES. 


been made, the number of ablebodied men 
in the temperance ranks was comparatively 
small. 

But they were ** made of good stuff,” as 
Lem Weston said, and the barn was sure 
to go up. “ Needn’t anybody be scart 
and judging from the appearance of those 
most interested in the work, no one felt any 
fears. 

Of course everybody was invited, and there 
was a general turn out, some going from one 
motive, and some from another. George 
Ransom, who knew every pin and mortice in 
a frame, as well as a sailor knows the ropes 
of his ship, superintended the work. A bright 
afternoon in early June, all was in readiness. 

“ Every man to his place,” shouted the fore- 
man. “ We don’t want to make a long job of 
this. Now ! All together !” 

But as the broadside was lifted, it was ob- 
served that four men threw their whole weight 
upon it, and consequently it was allowed to 
settle back. 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


259 


George Ransom, quick to decide, shouted 
again, Now ! All together! Heave her up! 
Give the men a ride, if they want it !’' 

Only two attempted the ride, and of these, 
Sam Buffy, yielding to the force of gravity, 
dropped when a few feet from the ground. 
Nate Barnes, with more persistency, allowed 
himself to be carried up about fifteen feet, 
when some one exclaiming, Look out ! We 
shant stop for you !’^ he too dropped, at the 
risk of life and limb. • 

No more boasting from him or his com- 
panion that afternoon. They slunk away to 
a pile of boards where they would be partially 
screened from observation, and chewed to- 
bacco as a slight solace for their pain and 
disgrace. No sympathy was wasted upon 
them. The boys present were especially 
delighted with their downfall, and when the 
frame of the barn stood complete, Jim Cragin 
invited them to come out of their hiding-place, 
and see if everything was all right. 

Mind your own business, Jim,” was Nate’s 


260 


OLD TIMES. 


reply. ‘*We haint nothin to do with this 
raisin, and don’t want to have.’' 

But you had a ride all for nothin, and you 
ought to care.” 

Having said this, Jim thought it best to 
retreat, although he took good care to enlist 
others in their behalf. Lem Weston, who 
really hoped they had learned a lesson, asked 
them in a pleasant tone, if they didn’t begin 
to believe in cold water. 

There never was a heavier frame put up 
in town, and there never was one went up 
any easier,” said Lem, by way of comment. 
‘‘ I never see the time when I could lift as 
much as I can now.” 

Who cares what you can do ?” growled 
Nate. don’t want to hear none of your 
temperance stuff, and what’s more, I wont. 
If- you’ve got any work on hand, you’d better 
be about it. You aint wanted here.” 

'^Well, I guess I aint,” was the good- 
natured reply. 

A stranger could have told to which party 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


261 


any one of the men present belonged. The 
discomfiture written upon some faces, and the 
triumph upon others, were easily read. Dea- 
con Campbell received many congratulations, 
while he thanked his neighbors and friends 
for their assistance. 

One blast of the horn announced that 
supper was ready, and all were invited to 
enter the house. Looking around, to see 
that no one remained outside, except the 
boys, who were to wait until their elders 
were served, the deacon observed that Nate 
Barnes and Sam Buffy were missing, and 
sent his son|to call them. 

I don’t want none of your supper,^* 
growled Nate. “ It’s the meanest raisin I 
ever went to, and I don’t want nothin to 
do with it.” 

‘'Well, you’ve a right to your opinion,” 
replied Horace, pleasantly. “ But if you want 
a good supper, you’d better come into the 
house.” 

Sam Buffy looked up, as though a good 


262 


OLD TIMES. 


supper was quite a temptation. Cofne 
along/’ he said to his companion. Let’s 
see the thing through.” 

** No, I zvonty' was the reply ; and if Nate 
had added, ‘‘ I can’t,” he could hardly have 
been accused of telling a falsehood. 

Sam, who was able to walk without limping, 
decided to eat some supper, and make the 
best of a bad bargain. Going into the kitchen, 
one shouted, “You’ve given us such a lift 
this afternoon, you’re entitled to double ra- 
tions when he answered, with a sorry laugh, 
“I haint done no hurt, have I?” 

“ Not a bit, unless you’ve hiirt yourself,” 
replied his host. “ We expect to have you 
in our society before long, and then we’ll 
all pull together.” 

There had been both baking and brewing 
to prepare for this feast, and mugs of foaming 
beer were drained, one after another, until 
the demand would have exhausted any ordi- 
nary supply. But this house was equal to 
the emergency; and although Bashy Turner 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


263 


said she never see folks eat so, in all the 
born days of her life,” enough remained for 
the boys ; and even when they were satisfied, 
Mrs. Campbell’s store was not quite ex- 
hausted. 

When the company began to disperse, 
search was made for Nate Barnes, and he 
not being found, his brother sot guessed he’d 
crawled off towards home. He’ll go through 
the woods, and ’taint a great ways.” 

This was true, and the poor man, taking 
advantage of the absence of those whom he 
considered his tormentors, made off to the 
woods, where he was seen by some boys, 
who reported him as moving very slowly. 
The afternoon had been anything but pleasant 
to him, and while he cursed his own folly, 
he cursed the temperance deacon still more 
heartily. “ Grandsir Nichols ” might possibly 
condole with him, but most people would 
consider his fall a good joke. 

This raising had been a matter of so much 
interest, that all who remained away were 


264 


OLD TIMES. 


anxious to hear how it was carried through. 
Deacon Porter drove up to his own door, 
looking surly and disappointed. Deacon 
Willey said nothing until his wife asked 
him some questions. Deacon Flanders ad- 
mitted that there was no trouble ; but Dea- 
con Cragin and his boys made the hills echo 
with ‘‘ Yankee Doodle Temperance,” as Jim 
called their favorite song. 

There was no denying that the frame was 
up, strong and substantial, and there was 
every prospect that Deacon Campbell’s barn 
woDld be in readiness to receive the luxuriant 
crop of grass, which even now waved in the 
breeze. Ezra Nichok was jubilant, notwith- 
standing his father’s complaints. 

“Things is all goin wrong in these last 
days,” said the old man. “ Scriptur’s set 
aside, and children turn aginst their fathers. 
I’ve lived till I’m a burden. O, dear !” The 
speaker looked like one of the army Jim 
had seen in his dreams, and this greatly ' 
detracted from the dignity of his speech. 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


265 


** I think you are made comfortable/’ was 
the reply of his son. “ If these are the last 
days, they are better than the first Every 
thing went on like clock-work this afternoon. 
Nobody got drunk, and nobody got hurt, 
except Nate Barnes, and he deserved it. I 
hope he’s learned a lesson, and for my part, 
I wish there couldn’t be a drop of liquor 
bought in the country which remark was 
heard with a groan. 

It would require a large volume to con- 
tain the comments upon this afternoon’s work. 
Bashy Turner thought the trouble was most 
over, and started for home in a frame of 

mind which any one might envy. A boy, 

with her feelings, would have shouted, sung, 
and whistled ; but she, a middle-aged woman, 
walked on silently, thanking God for what 
she had seen, and praying that she might 
be permitted to aid in spreading the new 
gospel of temperance. Suddenly, as she 
was passing through some woods, a man 

sprang into the road,' and called her by 


266 


OLD TIMES. 


name. Startled, she did not speak until 
her name was repeated, with the question, 
“Have you forgot Ben Welcom‘e?” 

“ Why, Ben, is that you ? Where did you 
come from? When did you get home?’' 

“I haint been home,” was the whispered 
reply. 

“ Haint been home !” repeated Bashy. 
“What do you mean?” 

“ Mean what I say,” answered Ben, in 
the same subdued tone. “ I don’t dare to 
go home.” 

“ What’s the reason ? What’s the matter ?” 
And then remembering what reports had been 
circulated in regard to this young man, she 
asked, “ Have you got into any trouble ?” 

“ Yes, and I want you to help me out. 
Will you ?” 

“ If I can,” replied the woman. “ Come 
home with me. There aint nobody there. 
Mrs. Priest went away yesterday mornin, to 
be gone till next week. We can talk better 
in the house.” 


A COLD WATER RAISING. . 


267 


Are you sure there wont anybody come ? 
I wouldn’t have anybody else see me for a 
thousand dollars.” 

Well, you wont see nobody there. Come 
right along with me.” 

No,” he replied, after a moment’s hesita- 
tion. “ I’ll keep in the woods, and come 
up to your kitchen door after you get home. 
But you wont tell anybody that you’ve 
seen me.” 

‘'No, Ben, you can trust me;” and she 
hastened on to the house, where she was 
soon joined by her companion. “ Now' sit 
right down, and tell me what I can do for 
you,” she said. 

“ First give me something to eat. I’m half 
starved.” 

“Half starved!” repeated Bashy, in an 
absent way. “You half starved? Well, I’ve 
got enough for you to eat, and I’ll make a 
cup of tea, soon as I can get some water hot.’* 

“No, I don’t want that, but if you’ve got 
some brandy — ” 


268 


OLD TIMES. 


'^Got some brandy, Ben Welcome! I 
wouldn’t have a drop of the pizen stuff 
on my premises. If you’d never seen any 
liquor, you wouldn’t got into trouble. If you 
want me to help you, you must do as I say, 
and I say you’ll drink a cup of tea.” 

Well,” responded the young man sub- 
missively, commencing to eat the food placed 
before him. 

“ Perhaps you’d better go into the other 
room,” said his hostess. "'’Taint no ways 
likely there will anybody come here to-night, 
but we might as well be on the safe side. I’ll 
draw the lower shutters, and then there’ll be 
moonlight enough to see to eat by. I’m goin 
to make some tea.” 

She closed the door between them, and 
proceeded to kindle a fire ; meanwhile con- 
sidering what was best to be done for Ben. 
That he had committed some crime, she did 
not doubt. When she looked in upon him, 
he was still eating hungrily. 

" I don’t know but I shall eat you out of 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


269 


house and home,” he said, with an attempt to 
smile. ‘‘ But I haint tasted anything before 
for two days. I didn’t expect to come to 
this.” 

Liquor’s brought you to it,” replied Bashy, 
bluntly. It’s at the bottom of most all 
trouble I ever see, and we’re tryin to turn 
over a new leaf here. You drink that tea, 
and then I’ll hear your story.” 

Well, you’ll help me, wont you ?” said the 
young man, looking up to her with tearful 
eyes. ** Don’t turn me out.” 

‘‘ I’ll do all I can for you. There can’t 
nobody say Bashy Turner ever refused to 
help a fellow creetur, when she could. You 
drink that bowl of tea, while I cover up 
the fire.” 

He obeyed, but his craving for a more 
potent stimulant was not satisfied. Brandy 
would have given him temporary relief, and 
had it been within his reach, he would have 
drank to intoxication. 

Now tell me what you want me to do,” 


270 


OLD TIMES. 


said his hostess, seating herself opposite him. 
‘‘You can tell me anything you want to, and 
there wont nobody be no wiser for it.” 

“ I’ve got into trouble,” was the reply. 
“ When I went away from home, I didn’t 
mean to do as I have, but I got into bad com- 
pany, I drank too much and spent a good 
deal of money. You don’t want to know all 
the wicked things I done, but the last thing 
I did, was to pass counterfeit money, and the 
officers are after me. I didn’t mean to come 
back so, but I couldn’t go anywhere else, and 
I wanted to see my mother.” Here the young 
man’s composure gave way, and he wept like 
a child. “ I don’t know as father ’d speak to 
me. I’ve been in the woods two days. Last 
night I came close up to the house, but I 
didn’t dare to speak. What made me think 
of coming to you was because you told me 
a good many years ago, if I ever got into 
trouble, you’d help me.” 

“I remember it, Ben. You helped father 
home when he couldn’t help himself. He’d 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


271 


died in the gutter if it hadn’t been for you. 
What do you want me to do?” 

Go and tell father I’m here, and ask him 
what I shall do. If I had money I could go 
out West, out of the way; though I’d be 
glad to stay with mother till I feel better.” 

“ Be you sick ?” asked his friend. 

“ I aint very well,” was the reply. There’s 
somethin the matter with my side, and when 
I walk fast I almost lose my breath. Hark! 
Aint there somebody comin?” 

‘‘ No,” answered Bashy. It’s only the 
old elm sweeping against the house. I’ve 
meant to have that branch cut off, but it 
don’t get done.” 

* After this they talked for a long time, 
Ben growing more communicative, and Bashy 
more compassionate. 

see just how ’tis,” she said at length. 
‘‘You didn’t mean to do nothin criminal, but 
liquor and bad company got the better of 
you.” 

“That’s the truth, Bashy;” and this admis- 


272 


OLD TIMES. 


sion was both prefaced and supplemented 
with a sigh. “ I learned to drink at home, 
and it’s been a bad thing for me.” 

So it has, and it’s been a bad thing for 
a good many others. Now, if you’ll promise 
not to taste of liquor for a month. I’ll go 
over and see your father in the mornin. It’s 
your last chance, Ben. You’ve most finished 
yourself up, soul and body, and you’ll get 
through with this world pretty quick if you 
don’t do different.” 

‘Til promise to let liquor alone for a 
whole month,” he answered. “But father 
drinks.” 

“ Not much now, I guess,” said Bashy. 
“ He’s pretty nigh come round to the tem- 
perance folks, and I guess seein you ’ll finish 
him up. Your father’s felt bad about you, 
I know that, though he aint a man to say 
much.” 

“ I know I’ve made him a good deal of 
trouble, but I’ve made myself the most. 
Nobody knows what I’ve suffered within a 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


273 


week. rd rather die than go through it 
again.’' 

'‘It’s a solemn thing to die, Ben/’ 

" I know it, but we’ve all got to die once, 
and it’s dreadful to feel as though you were 
hunted. I couldn’t sleep anywhere.” 

“ Poor boy ! I’m sorry for you,” said 
Bashy, pityingly. "You can go to bed up 
stairs to-night, and sleep all night. There 
wont nobody think of lookin here for you. 
’Taint a very nice place up stairs, but there’s 
a good bed, and you’ll be safe. Perhaps 
you’d better not come down in the mornin 
till I call you. I’ve promised to do some 
sewin for your mother before long, and may 
be I’ll go over pretty early and see about 
it. The neighbors are used to seein me out 
early and late, and there wont nobody think 
strange. You go right up stairs, and I’ll 
fix things down here.” 

" O, Bashy, I thank you a thousand times,” 
cried the young man, sobbing. " I come to 
the right place, and if you’ll help me out 
18 


274 


OLD TIMES. 


of this trouble, Til never get into any more, 
ril do right the rest of my life.” 

“ That means you’ll be a Christian, Ben. 
Did you think of that?” 

No, I didn’t,” he answered, looking at her 
earnestly. “ I meant I’d give up drinking, 
and go to work.” 

Well, I guess you’ll need religion to help 
you do that. I haint got so much as I ought 
to have, but it’s worth everything to me. It 
helps me all the time. I know your mother 
learnt you to say your prayers when you was 
a boy, and if you’re in earnest about doin 
right, you’ll pray to-night before you go to 
sleep.” 

I will,” he replied. O, if I’d done as 
my mother told me, I should been well and 
happy now. It seems to me I’d be willing to 
die if I could see her, and she would forgive 
me. 

‘‘I guess you’ll see her in the mornin,” said 
his friend. “ Go up stairs now and Bash)^ 
held the door open, for him to pass through. 


A COLD WATER RAISING. 


275 


'^Turn to the left when you get up, and don’t 
worry about any thing/’ 

She closed the door after him, when, in 
answer to a question, he told her he was 
all right.” Then she drew the table back 
to its place before the door, and sat down to 
think. Her prayer for an opportunity to do 
good had been answered in a way she least 
expected, and she looked to God for wisdom 
and guidance. 




276 


OLD TIMES. 


CHAPTER XVL 

AN UNEXPECTED GUEST, 

H ROUGH the woods, it was not 
more than a mile to Mr. Welcome's. 
Bashy Turner wondered if she could 
keep the right course by moonlight. 
She could not sleep, that was impossible ; and 
if officers were really in search of Ben, there 
was no time to be lost in providing for his 
safety. “ I’ll go ‘ right along,” she said to 
herself. “ It’s strange if I can’t keep the 
track.” Then she remembered that by cross- 
ing a stream upon the trunk of a tree, she 
could keep in the open field most of the way. 
Making some changes in her dress, she went 
out, and after looking around to be sure that 
no one was near, she started on her walk. 
The hooting of owls, the babbling of the 
brook, and the sighing of the night-wind, 



AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


277 


were the only sounds she heard, and before 
she had decided how to make known her 
errand, she had reached the house she 
sought. 

There she stood, irresolute, until a woman’s 
face appeared at the window. Mrs. Wel- 
come !” she called in a low voice. 

“ Who is it ?’' was the reply. 

Bashy Turner; and I’ve somethin to say 
to you, but I don’t want anybody to know I’m 
here, except you and your husband.” 

“ Then wait a minute, and I’ll open the 
north door,” said Mrs. Welcome. This was 
done noiselessly, and the visitor entered a 
room seldom used. What’s the matter ?” 
asked her hostess. Have you heard any 
thing from my boy?” 

‘‘ Yes, I see him not more than an hour 
ago,” was the whispered response. 

“ Where ? Where ? Where is he ?” asked 
the mother. 

“ There, Mrs. Welcome, don’t take on so,” 
said her companion, kindly; ” I didn’t mean to 


278 


OLD TIMES. 


be so blunt, but it come right out. I meant 
to tell your husband first. Ben is safe in 
the bed up stairs in my house, and I don’t 
doubt but he’s fast asleep.” 

” But why didn’t he come home? Tell me 
all about it. I can bear it. I’ve been think- 
ing about Ben most all the time for two or 
three days, and to-night I couldn’t sleep. 
It seemed as though he’d got into trouble. 
Has he?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Welcome, he has; but it’s 
trouble money can help him out of Least- 
ways, I think it can.” 

“ Then he shall be helped, if it takes all 
we’ve got. But what is it that he’s done, 
Bashy ?” 

“ Passed counterfeit money,” was the reply. 
“ He’s been hidin in the woods two days. 
He called to me when I was goin home 
from Deacon Campbell’s, and I told him to 
come right to my house. He eat some sup- 
per and went to bed. Then I concluded the 
sooner I came over here, the better. I pro- 


AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


279 


mised Ben I’d see his father, and ’twasn’t best 
to wait.” 

Mrs. Welcome wept unrestrainedly, now 
that she knew her son was a criminal. But 
she was not one to yield weakly to emotion, 
when action was necessary, and soon recover- 
ing herself, she went to tell her husband the 
sad news. 

Thank God it’s no worse,” was the father’s 
first ejaculation, after being made to compre- 
hend the true state of affairs. “ I’ll go in 
and see Bashy. There aint many would done 
as she has, and she shant lose anything by 
this night’s work.” Mr. Welcome grasped 
the hand of her who had come to do him 
such service, and thanked her in broken 
accents, adding, “Tell me all you know about 
my poor boy. Don’t keep back anything;” 
and Bashy repeated what she had already 
said to the mother. 

'“How does he seem? Is he penitent?” 
asked his father anxiously, after this. “ Will 
he do any better in future?” 


280 


OLD TIxMES. 


“ He means to,” was the reply. He says 
he’ll let liquor alone, and try to do right.” 

” How has he lived — in the woods ? Why 
didn’t he come home?” 

These, and many other questions were 
asked in such rapid succession, that it was 
impossible to reply to them all ; but enough 
was told to decide Mr. Welcome in regard 
to his own conduct. 

‘‘There must be something done, right 
away,” he said. “ Ben must be saved from 
punishment if money will save him;” and 
the father bowed his head for very shame, 
that it was his son who deserved punishment 
at the hands of the law. “ I must see my 
boy before morning,” he added soon after, 
in a hoarse voice. “Are you going home 
to-night, Bashy ?” 

“Yes; I meant to go right back as soon 
as I told you. Ben didn’t know I was comin 
till mornin, and I don’t feel quite easy to 
leave him there alone. I guess I’d better 
go now.” 


AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


2S1 


I’ll go with you ; and wife, I’ll be back 
before light. Don’t worry. I’ll save Ben.” 

It was very hard for Mrs. Welcome to re- 
main at home when her son was so near, but 
she did so without a murmur. Bashy Turner 
led the way through the woods, and after 
reaching home, went herself to apprize Ben 
of his father’s coming. 

** Father come ?” he repeated. “ What is 
he going to do with me ?” 

This question was hardly asked, when Mr. 
Welcome groped his way up the narrow stairs, 
and father and son were left alone. The 
returned wanderer made a frank and full con- 
fession of his guilt, extenuating nothing, and 
throwing himself upon his father’s mercy. 

“ I’ll do all I can for you, my son, upon 
one condition.” 

“ Name it, father,” cried the young man. 

I’ll do any thing you say.” 

“Drink no more liquor — not a drop- while 
you live, sick or well.” 

“ I promise,” was the quick response. 


2 ^ 


OLD TIMES. 


‘‘Then raise your right hand, and repeat 
what I say.” This too was done, and the 
solemn “ So help me, God,” sealed the pledge. 
“ ril go now,” said Mr. Welcome. “ I’ll see 
what I can do for you, and I guess you’d 
better stay here for the present. Your mother 
will make some excuse for coming over 
to-morrow, and likely I’ll come with her.” 

There was a short consultation in the room 
below, and the father left, to return to his 
home. Then Bashy Turner began to realize 
that she needed rest. But morning was at 
hand. She called to her guest. Breakfast 
was prepared and eaten as they talked, and 
Ben then returned to the chamber. His host- 
ess lay down and attempted to sleep, but in 
this she did not succeed. So much was at 
stake, so much, perhaps, depended upon her 
discretion, that she started at every sound. 

At length a loud rap summoned her to 
the door, where she found a man who wished 
her to go and help his wife for a few 
days. 


AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


283 


can’t go any where this week,” she an- 
swered decidedly. I’m pretty nigh tired out 
any way, and I’m expectin Mrs. Welcome 
this mornin, to come over with some sewin. 
’Taint no use talkin,” she added ; I can’t 
run every minute. I must have some time 
to rest.” 

“ But what am I goin to do ? If Mrs. 
Welcome’s willin to wait — ” 

If she’s willin to wait, I’ll stay to home 
and read my Bible a spell,” interrupted Bashy, 
a little impatiently. ‘‘ I guess ’twould do me 
good.” 

That visitor was despatched, and she hoped 
no more would come. But there seemed to 
be a general demand for her services that 
morning, and before Mrs. Welcome’s arrival, 
three others had urged her to go with them. 

I’m glad you’ve come,” she said to this 
lady, in the presence of a man who had been 
most importunate. “ Folks can see for them- 
selves that I’ve got company, and must stay 
to home.” 


284 


OLD TIMES. 


** I hope so, as I’ve come to stay all day,’* 
was the reply. 

‘^Yes,” added Mr. Welcome. ‘‘She’s been 
low-spirited lately, and I guess you’d be a 
good hand to cheer her up. I want her to 
stay all day.” 

“And I do much want to have her,” 
responded Bashy, understanding well the 
arrangement. “I’ll do all my best to cheer 
her up a little.” 

“As long as I come visiting without an 
invitation, I thought I’d bring along some- 
thing,” said the visitor. “ Perhaps my hus- 
band will be here to supper. He’s goin off 
on business, and don’t know when he’ll get 
back.” 

“ I should like that. But wont he come 
in now?” asked the mistress of this humble 
home. 

“ I can’t stop this morning,” was the answer. 
“ There’s some business out West to be at- 
tended to before long, and Mr. Whitney or I 
may have to go out there. He knows more 


AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


285 


about it than I do, and if he thinks best, 
one of us may start right off’* 

“ About that land you bought together a 
few years ago,” remarked he who waited, 
seeming unwilling to leave, and Mr. Welcome 
bowing, drove off. 

Mrs. Welcome, too much excited to listen 
to a prolonged conversation, had already 
entered the house, and so soon as she and 
Bashy were left alone, she went up into the 
low chamber to meet her son. Here, through 
all the morning hours, they wept or talked 
together. Like a child, the young man knelt 
at her feet, while she smoothed back the 
hair from his pale brow, and sighed, as she 
noted his sunken cheeks. Freely she forgave 
him for all the suffering he had caused her. 
But he had sinned against love greater than 
hers, and of this she reminded him. 

If you had been a Christian, you could 
have resisted temptation,” she said. 

It wouldn’t have made any difference 
what I was, as long as I kept on drinking,” 


286 


OLD TIMES. 


replied Ben. ‘‘ Liquor would have drowned 
out my religion just as it does other people’s. 
I know I ought to be a Christian, but I 
must give up drinking first. When a man’s 
drunk, it don’t make much difference whether 
he’s a Christian or not. I’ve seen enough of 
the world to know that.” 

Bashy sat at a window from which she 
could see a long distance, ready at any mo- 
ment to summon Mrs. Welcome, if intrusion 
threatened. No one appearing, she did not 
come down until preparations for dinner were 
commenced, when she offered her assist- 
ance. 

‘‘ I don’t need no help, and there was no 
need of your bringin them victuals,” replied 
her hostess. “ I’ve got enough in the house 
for us all to eat.” 

“ I don’t doubt it. But I wanted to bring 
something, and I thought you wouldn’t be 
affronted.” 

“Law, no, Mrs. Welcome. You can do 
just as you’re a mind to. Ben ’ll think more 


AN UNEXPECTED GUEST. 


287 


of your cookin than he does of mine, and I 
guess he might come down and eat with us.’^ 

Ben, however, did not think best to do 
this, and his mother ate with him in a place 
of safety. The afternoon seemed long, all 
waiting so impatiently for Mr. Welcome’s 
return. At the old-fashioned, early hour for 
tea, he appeared, looking serious but hopeful. 

“ I’ve done what I could,” he said in an- 
swer to his wife’s questions. “ Mr. Whitney 
has gone, and I told him not to spare in 
spending money. He thinks it likely some- 
body’ll be looking after Ben about home, and 
we shall have to leave him here for a while.” 

“Yes,” rejoined Bashy. “That’s just what 
you ought to do. He can stay, without 
anybody knowin it, till Mrs. Priest comes 
back ; and ’twouldn’t be none strange if she 
was gone a month. I’ve just thought of 
another thing too. If you want to put folks 
on the wrong track, you’d best take your wife 
and go a journey to see some of her folks. 
I’ll look out for Ben while you’re gone.” 


288 


OLD TIMES. 


I can’t go away,” sobbed the mother, 
overwhelmed at the thought of being again 
separated from her son. He needs to be 
nursed up and got well.” 

“ Bashy can do that,” responded Mr. Wel- 
come. ‘‘ Can’t you trust her, after all she has- 
done ? We must do what’s best for Ben. 
The journey is just the thing. We’ll start 
to-morrow. You’ve been wanting to see your 
sister, and now’s the time to go. I’ll go up 
and talk with Ben for a little while before 
supper.” 

The young man was so grateful for the 
kindness of his father, that he frequently 
interrupted the account of what had been 
done, with thanks and protestations of amend- 
ment. At first mention of the journey, he 
objected, but a little consideration convinced 
him that it was wise. Then came the parting, 
neither knowing when or where they should 
meet again. It might be in a pleasant home, 
or it might be in a felon’s cell. 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


289 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A SECRET REVEALED. 

Y the next morning it was generally 
known that Mr. Whitney had started 
for the West. At least this was the 
belief, and no one saw reason to 
doubt that his. business was to look after some 
land belonging to himself and Mr. Welcome. 
Close upon this followed the news that the 
latter named gentleman had left home with 
his wife to visit some of her relations. They 
did not go too soon. Just at nightfall, a 
stranger stopped at ^Hhe tavern’^ in Hardback, 
and after giving directions for the care of his 
horse, and ordering supper, he engaged the 
landlord in conversation. Descanting upon 
the beauties of the surrounding country and 
praising the farms, he remarked, ‘‘ There 
must be some rich men in town?’* 



19 


290 


OLD TIMES. 


'*Some that's pretty forehanded,” was the 
reply. Mr. Welcome’s the richest man we 
have got amongst us.” 

“ Where does he live ?” asked the stranger, 
with apparent carelessness. 

‘‘ Down there in the valley,” answered the 
landlord, pointing to a large brick house about 
half a mile distant. 

“ He must have quite a family, to need such 
a house as that.” 

“ He’s got a wife and four children. But 
the children are all married except one, and 
he may be, for all anybody knows to the 
contrary. He’s the youngest of the family, 
and he’s made his father a good deal of 
trouble,” continued the garrulous man, glad 
to find an appreciative listener in the stranger. 
** There don’t nobody round here know where 
he is.” 

His father must know,” remarked the 
stranger. Fathers generally keep track of 
their boys.” 

“ Guess Mr. Welcome don’t keep track of 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


291 


Ben. He haint been to home since two years 
ago last Thanksgivin.” 

After supper the traveller again led his host 
to speak of Mr. Welcome’s family, asking 
several questions. ‘^You say there don’t any 
body know where the youngest son is,” he 
remarked at length. “ Don’t you ever hear 
anything about him ?” 

“There’s been some stories round lately, 
but there aint much foundation for them, I 
guess. There’s some talk about his passing 
counterfeit money.” 

“ There’s a good deal of that done,” was 
the reply. 

“Yes, I suppose there is, though we don’t 
know much about it here in Hardback, and I 
hope it aint true about Ben Welcome. He 
was a promising boy. The only trouble with 
him was, that he liked liquor too well. He 
was always ready to do anybody a good 
turn, and we all thought he was going to 
marry one of our best girls, and settle down 
with the old folks.” 


292 


OLD TIMES. 


The officer of justice, for such he really 
was, having heard enough, made an excuse 
for leaving his companion, by saying that he 
wished to look round a little, and walked 
rapidly down the road to the brick house 
which had been pointed out to him. Here 
he asked, in a natural way, if Mr. Benjamin 
Welcome was at home. 

No, sir,” replied the girl, who met him at 
the door. 

I expected to find him here,” was then 
said, with apparent sincerity. have some 
business with him. Can you tell me where 
he is ?” 

‘‘No, sir; I don’t know.” 

“ Then you haven’t seen him lately ?” 

“No, sir.” 

“ Is his father about home ?” 

“No, sir. Mr. Welcome went away this 
morning with his wife.” 

This catechising was continued until the 
stranger was satisfied that the girl had told 
him the truth. He also judged that no 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


293 


person could be concealed in the house 
without her knowledge. Moreover, the fact 
that Mr. and Mrs. Welcome had left home 
that morning, he considered sufficient evi- 
dence that their son was nowhere in the 
vicinity. 

Completely blinded by what he had seen 
and heard, he returned to “ the tavern,” where 
he was soon joined by one who had been 
deputed to assist him in the arrest of Ben- 
jamin Welcome. They consulted together, 
and thinking best to make a bold strike, 
told the landlord their business, promising 
him a reward for any information he might 
give. 

‘Mf you’d give me a thousand dollars, I 
couldn’t tell you any more than I have,” he 
replied, with dilated eyes. Ben Welcome 
haint been to home since two years ago 
last Thanksgiving. It’s my opinion he’d 
know better than to come here, if he’d got 
into trouble. He’d know he’d be looked after 
here.” 


294 


OLD TIMES. 


** He might be round here somewhere in 
the woods,” suggested one of the men. 

He wouldn’t stay in the woods long, with- 
out something to eat,” was the reply. “ He’d 
go home for that, and ’taint noways likely 
his father and mother ’d go away if he was 
here. I wouldn’t be afraid to bet a hundred 
dollars he aint nowhere in these parts and 
the officers were so far of this opinion, that 
they left town without making any search 
for the criminal. 

Bashy Turner heard of their visit, and con- 
gratulated herself upon having thought of 
the journey for Mr. and Mrs. Welcome, while 
not a person came to her house without 
being entertained with complaints. She had 
worked till she was all tired out, and she 
wasn’t goin away from home till she got 
rested. Folks might say just what they was 
a mind to. She could live without work a 
spell. 

But this she was not allowed to do. If 
she would not go to the work, work was 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


295 


carried to her. As she afterwards said, she 
sewed and prayed from morning till night, 
her secret unsuspected, and her guest undis- 
covered. 

Ben Welcome, shut up to her society, told 
her much of his past history, revealing many 
things of which she had not before dreamed. 

“ Didn’t I hear Pheny Whitney’s voice 
down stairs ?” he asked, one evening. 

“ She’s been here,” was the reply. “ I 
should kept her longer, if it hadn’t been 
for your supper. I thought you’d want it. 
We talked about you.” 

‘‘ What did she say about me ?” 

** She said she couldn’t believe you was as 
bad as folks say. You and she used to be 
good friends, Ben. Some folks thought you 
meant to be married some time.” 

Perhaps we should, if it hadn’t been for 
liquor,” said the young man, frankly. That 
is what came between us. I loved Pheny 
Whitney, and I love her now. I wish I could 
see her long enough to tell her that; and 


296 


OLD TIMES. 


tell her too, that I mean to do different. I 
don’t suppose she cares anything about me 
now, but she did once, and she’s a good 
girl. I wonder somebody hasn’t made a wife 
of her before now.” 

“ There’s been enough would been glad 
to,” replied Bashy; “but she wont have 
nothin to say to anybody that way. Her 
cousin kept school in their district last winter, 
and folks thought they’d make a match. 
But she told me awhile ago there wasn’t 
no such thing, and I’m sure I don’t see 
nothin how her father could spare her. There 
aint a better housekeeper in town, and her 
brothers look up to her as though she was 
their mother. I guess too, she’s done as 
much for temperance as anybody in Hard- 
hack, and she hates tobacker most as bad 
as she does liquor.” 

“ I knew that a good while ago,” said 
Ben. “ The last time I saw her, she told 
me she’d never marry a man who used 
tobacco or liquor, and I don’t blame her. 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


297 


I didn’t then either, though I was mad, and 
said a good many things I’ve been ashamed 
of since. I wish I could see her.” 

I’ll tell her you’re here, if you want I 
should. She’s goin by here to-morrow, and 
I can speak to her to come in.” 

“ I don’t know as ’twould be best,” was the 
reply. 

“ Do you think she’d go and tell you was 
here ?” exclaimed Bashy, in quite an indignant 
tone. 

“ No, I don’t think she would,” answered 
the young man quickly, while his companion 
expressed herself more strongly. 

“ I hiow she wouldn’t. She can keep a 
secret long’s anybody. Seems to me she has 
kept one a good while, and nobody haint been 
none the wiser for it. I’d trust her far as I 
would myself; and that’s enough.” 

‘‘So ’tis, Bashy. I’ll think about it. I aint 
afraid to trust her, but — ” and pausing 
abruptly, the speaker went up to his room. 

He could not remember when he had not 


298 


OLD TIMES. 


loved Pheny Whitney. Dissipation had for a 
time obscured this love, but it now pervaded 
his whole being, and he longed to give it 
expression. She might not, probably would 
not reciprocate his love, but it would be some- 
thing to know she had not quite forgotten the 
old days. He imist see her. He would see 
her, if she would grant him the privilege. 

The next day, as Pheny was passing, her 
friend called to her, and scarcely was she in 
the house when she learned why she had 
been called. 

“ Ben here she cried in a husky voice. 
“Ben Welcome here! A criminal! It aint 
best we should meet. But tell him I’m sorry 
for him, and will keep his secret. It’s about 
him father’s gone away. I understand it 
now, and I hope he’ll be cleared. But I can’t 
see him.” 

“ Shall I tell him so ?” asked Bashy, her 
own eyes filling with tears. “ Be you sure 
you know your own mind ?” 

“Yes, yes,” was the reply. “I ought to. 


A SECRET REVEALED 


299 


I’ve thought enough about him — too much, 
unless he’s a better man.” 

But he’s goin to be a better man, Pheny. 
I heard him prayin last night, and you might 
help him if you was a mind to.” 

“Bashy! Bashy ! You don’t understand 
this. You mean well, but I can’t see Ben 
Welcome. Tell him I pray for him, and that’s 
all I can do. Good-by.” 

Saying this, Pheny Whitney rushed from 
the house, leaving her friend sadly perplexed. 
Bashy was little skilled in love matters, but 
she could see that the end had not yet come. 

Why couldn’t the. girl see him ?” she said 
to herself. “ ’Twouldn’t done no hurt;” and 
much in the same way “ the girl” reasoned, as 
she walked on without once looking back. 

And Ben, poor fellow ! He could illy brook 
this disappointment, although he acknow- 
ledged that Pheny had done right, declaring 
that he was not fit to be in the same house 
with her. If she prays for me, it’s more than 
I ought to expect. But I should like to write 


800 


OLD TIMES. 


a few lines to her, if you’ll let me have some 
paper. I want to ask her forgiveness, and tell 
her— 

Here he broke down utterly, and what he 
would have said, Bashy could only guess, as 
she went to bring a sheet of paper. The letter 
was written, sealed and directed, but there was 
no opportunity to deliver it. The young lady 
to whom it was addressed did not pass that 
way on her return home. 

I don’t know nothin what to make of it,” 
mused her friend. She’d have to go a good 
ways round not to come by here. And there’s 
Ben wouldn’t eat no supper, and lookin like a 
ghost, when he’d begun to gain every day. 
But there — I guess the girl’s right. I wouldn’t 
trust none of these men, till they’d proved 
their words by their actions. The best of 
them aint none too good, and Ben haint proved 
himself as he ought to. I guess Pheny knows 
what’s what.” 

A week went by, during the last days of 
which the whole town was in a state of great 


A SECRET REVEALED. 


301 


excitement in regard to Ben Welcome. He 
was not the first son of Hardback who had 
committed a crime, but his father’s position 
and his own personal popularity gave a 
peculiar interest to everything connected with 
him. People said it was a terrible thing, and 
v/ondered how he could have fallen so low; 
while the advocates of total abstinence quoted 
his example as a warning to all other young 
men. Everybody talked of it, from Betty 
Glines to Eleazer Flanders, the latter express- 
ing his opinion with much earnestness, and 
hoping folks would get their eyes open pretty 
soon. “Ben would be just as good as any- 
body, if he was a temperance man.” 

“ Leazer !” called his father sternly. “ All 
the temperance in the world wouldn’t make 
him a Christian.” 

“ Mr. Gibson says ’twould go a good ways 
towards making him one,” replied the boy, 
quoting his minister’s words with great assur- 
ance. “ There are men here in Hardback 
that need temperance after they’ve got re- 


302 


OLD TIMES. 


ligion, before they’ll do as they ought to. 
Deacon Campbell said so in the store yester- 
day, and he ought to know.” 

“You’ve said enough, Leazer!” exclaimed 
the obstinate deacon. “ I don’t want to hear 
no more such talk. You’d better keep away 
from the store. ’Taint no place for boys.” 

Eleazer left the room, when his mother said : 
“ I’m afraid you aint takin the right way to 
manage that boy. He’s old enough to know 
what’s goin on, and think about it. He’s got 
his head full of temperance, and you hadn’t 
ought to try to get it out. ’Twould kill me if 
he should do as Ben Welcome has, and there 
don’t anybody deny but what it’s all come of 
liquor.” 



DELIVERANCE. 


303 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

DELIVERANCE. 

ERHAPS I should have made men- 
tion ere this, of the donation visit 
at which Mr. Gibson received the 
ten dollars fairly earned for him by 
Messrs. Ransom, Nichols, and Whitney. Mr. 
Runnels and Mr. Smith paid this cheerfully, 
the former having already become a member 
of the temperance society, and the latter 
almost persuaded to follow his example. 

Despite the coldness with which some of 
the leading members of the church regarded 
their minister, never had there been so many 
substantial gifts left at the parsonage on 
any similar occasion. The young people, 
especially, vied with each other in manifesting 
their esteem and affection. 

Mr. Gibson was much gratified, yet he 



804 


OLD TIMES. 


could not be unmindful of those who absented 
themselves without sending a token of regret 
or regard. There had been no concerted 
action on the part of the anti-temperance 
men, as was threatened. Deacon Campbell 
said there had been less opposition than he 
expected ; while others thought there was 
every reason to be encouraged. To save 
Lem Weston, if no other good had been 
accomplished, was worth all the effort which 
had been made. 

His mother rejoiced at the wondrous trans- 
formation in his habits; and just here was 
the argument which Deacon Flanders found 
it most difficult to resist, although he per- 
sisted in saying that there was no need of 
going to extremes either way. As for the 
boys, who shouted the praises of cold water, 
and considered themselves members of the 
temperance society, he ridiculed the idea of 
their understanding to what they had pledged 
themselves. Even Sam Glines, who had 
worked for Mr. Welcome all the summer, 


DELIVERANCE. 


805 


''steady as a man/’ could not realize the 
significance of what he had done. 

It was easy to say this, yet it would have 
been very difficult to prove it. Sam was a 
strong, active boy, ready to do his duty, and 
happy in relieving his mother of any burden. 
He earned but little more than his board, 
but this little, judiciously expended, seemed 
doubled. His employer encouraged him with 
kind words and an occasional present, the 
family acknowledged his usefulness, and every 
thing went well with him. 

Of course he could not fail to hear of the 
search for Ben Welcome, and .the crime of 
which the young man was accused. As it 
chanced, or, to speak more truly, as Provi- 
dence directed, Mr. Welcome had only tem- 
perance men in his employ, so there was 
no attempt to conceal the fact that strong 
drink had been the inciter of crime. 

“ Ben was a good-hearted boy,” said one. 
" He was smart too, and if it hadn’t been 
for liquor, he wouldn’t got into trouble. 

20 


806 


OLD TIMES. 


For my part, I hope he’ll go clear and do 
better. ’Twill most kill his mother when 
she hears what he’s done.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Welcome were absent from 
home one week. On their return, they passed 
the house of Bashy Turner, making an 
excuse for so doing, by calling for some 
work. 

’Taint done,” said Bashy, in answer to 
an inquiry. I thought you wasn’t in no 
great hurry, and other folks was. But I 
want you to come in and tell me how you 
want some of it done. I’m afraid I shan’t 
suit you if you don’t.” 

This was said for the benefit of some one 
who stopped to speak with Mr. Welcome ; 
and hardly had his wife entered the house, 
when he thought he would go in and get 
a drink of water. Once there, both saw their 
son for a few minutes, asking and answering 
many questions. 

guess Bashy takes good care of you?” 
said the father. 


DELIVERANCE. 


307 


*‘Yes,” was the reply. She couldn’t do 
any better if she was my sister. But I long 
to go to work. If you’ll give me money to 
carry me out West, I wont trouble you any 
more, and I’m sure I can make enough to 
pay you back.” 

We wont talk about that, my son. Money 
is of very little consequence to me, compared 
with your good, and I’ll give it to you 
willingly. .But you must stay here till Mr. 
Whitney comes back.” 

“ Have you heard from him ?’* asked Ben. 

No, ” answered his father. “ I didn’t 
expect to hear from him so soon. You must 
be patient. You are safe here, with plenty 
of time to think.” 

O, father, I have thought till I am almost 
crazy,” responded the young man. “ How 
could I do as I have ! I never should if it 
hadn’t been for liquor. I shall preach tem- 
perance the rest of my life. Bashy has told me 
all about the society here, and I hope you’ll 
join it.” 


308 


OLD TIMES. 


“ I am going to, Ben. There wont be any 
more liquor in our house, except in case of 
sickness. I’m going to take hold and help 
Mr. Gibson. He’s likely to have . a hard time. 
I wish you could see him and talk with him. 
He has seen a good deal more of the world 
than old Parson Grimes.” 

** I wish I could hear him talk. But I must 
stay here and see nobody, and I ought to be 
thankful that I am safe. Do come, when you 
can, mother,” added Ben. 

‘‘Yes, my son, I will. But we must be 
careful not to raise suspicion, till we know how 
Mr. Whitney makes out.” She lingered after 
her husband had gone below stairs, giving 
such counsel as a Christian mother might. 
“ Go to the Bible for wisdom, and to God for 
strength,” she said tenderly. “ If you will do 
this, there is hope for you.” 

“ I do try to,” he answered. “ But my sins 
are so great, Pm almost afraid to ask for 
forgiveness. I knew better than to do as 
I have.” 


DELIVERANCE. 


309 


We all know a great deal better than to 
sin. But — ” 

Here Mrs. Welcome was interrupted by a 
call, which bade her hasten ; and stopping 
only to say “ Good-by,’' she left Ben alone. 

“ Somebody’s comin along the road,” said 
Bashy. “ It’s best to be on the safe side, so 
I called up to you for fear that they might 
come in.” 

” That’s right, but I wish I could stay here 
all the time. Seems as though I ought to.” 

“ ’Twont do, Mrs. Welcome. We’ve got to 
be careful. There’s been somebody looking 
for • Ben, and the man offered to give Mr. 
Jenks money if he’d tell where he was. He 
didn’t know nothin to tell, and there aint no 
need of anybody’s knowin. Mrs. Priest aint 
comin home for a month, and I’ll stay right 
here and take care of your boy.” 

You shant lose any thing by it,” said Mr. 
Welcome. 

“ I don’t expect to,” was the reply. “ I 
wanted to stay, at home and rest a spell. 


310 


OLD TIMES, 


Folks needn’t think I’m goin to run all the 
time. I’ve been tellin all of them so this 
good while, and I guess they’ll begin to 
believe it” 

Whether people believed this or not, they 
certainly did wonder, when, after remaining 
two weeks at home, Bashy still refused to go 
where help was needed, and where she would 
be well paid. The same people wondered 
also how Mr. Whitney could afford to leave 
his work so long at this time of year. 

In the meantime his daughter had received a 
letter from him containing a message to Mr. 
Welcome, to the effect that he was likely to 
accomplish his business without going far 
West. When I get home I will explain 
every thing,” he wrote ; and yet he did not 
say when he might be expected. 

Pheny, who understood the significance of 
this message, rejoiced, although she still re- 
fused to see her old playmate. She replied 
to his note, according her forgiveness, assur- 
ing him of her best wishes, and urging him 


pkliverance. 


311 


to redeeip-^fiis name from the stain which now 
rested upon it. All this was kindly expressed, 
but there was no word of love, nothing which 
betrayed more than sisterly affection and 
Christian solicitude. 

“ ril make myself worthy of her yet,” said 
the young man, crushing the note in his hand. 

God helping me, I will redeem the past, 
and come back to Hardback in broad day- 
light.” More impatiently, he waited for per- 
mission to go his way, longing for labor and 
its fatigue. 

“ You’re gettin to look a good deal better,** 
said his hostess, when he had been with her 
two weeks. 

I feel a good deal better, though my side 
aint quite right yet,” was the reply. 

It all comes of leavin off liquor,” added 
Bashy. You’d died in a little while, if you’d 
kept on. For my part, I don’t see how folks 
can drink liquor. I haint tasted on’t for a 
good many years, and I never mean to again. 

I never wanted it, but Lem Weston says it’s 


312 


OLD TIMES. 


been a tough job for him to give it up, and he 
hankers for it sometimes now.'^ 

“ Of course he does/’ answered Ben. The 
love of strong drink makes anybody a slave. 
It’s going to be hard work for me to keep 
from drinkin when I go where there’s liquor. 
A drunkard needs pity, if anybody in the 
world does ; and yet I suppose he’s to be 
despised. He isn’t to be trusted anywhere.” 

^‘That’s what I’ve said a good many times;” 
and Bashy Turner nodded emphatically. “ I 
never could see how women folks could marry 
men that drink liquor.” 

“There wouldn’t be many married if they 
didn’t,” said Ben, smiling sadly. 

“ I know it, but that wouldn’t be no matter, 
accordin to my way of thinkin. I’ve got 
along well enough. I haint had nobody to 
scold me and order me round since I come 
of age, and I haint worked no harder than 
other women, neither. When you get married, 
Ben, I hope you’ll remember that your wife 
has just as good a right to live as you have, 


DELIVERANCE. 


313 


and she’s just as likely to know something, as 
you be to know everything.” 

“There aint any prospect of my having a 
wife,” was the reply. “There aint but one 
woman in the world I want, and I aint sure 
I should want her, if she would have me as I 
am now. But I’ll remember what you say.” 

Pheny Whitney waited anxiously for her 
father’s return, doing everything possible to 
expedite the work out of doors as well as in ; 
while John and Frank, who considered their 
sister worthy of imitation in all things, emu- 
lated her industry. Perhaps it was well that at 
this time she was more than usually occupied 
with the homely cares of everyday life, for, 
truth to tell, there was a severe struggle 
going on in her heart, which she sought to 
ignore. But she kept her own counsel, and 
the secret of Ben Welcome’s hiding-place; 
although obliged to hear comments and con- 
jectures in regard to him, when she grew 
nervous at the mention of his name. 

At length, after an absence of three weeks, 


314 


OLD TIMES. 


Mr. Whitney was at home, and all were 
relieved. 

''Have you Settled up for Ben?” asked his 
daughter abruptly, when a fitting opportunity 
occurred for so doing. 

" What do you know about that ?” he asked 
in reply. 

" I know all about it,” she answered. 
" Bashy told me, and Ben has written to 
me.” 

" He has !” and as this was said, an expres- 
sion of extreme annoyance settled upon her 
father’s face. " I would do all in my power to 
save Ben Welome, soul and body, but I don't 
think ’twould be safe to trust him very far.” 

"Neither do I,” replied Pheny. "You need 
have no fears on that score. I have not seen 
Ben, and probably never shall. But I should 
be very sorry to know he was in prison.” 

" There is no danger of that now,” said Mr. 
Whitney, with a sigh of relief " Money will 
do almost anything, and he is saved from what 
most people w^ould consider deserved punish- 


DELIVERANCE. 


315 


ment. But, after all, Bashy has done more for 
him than anybody else. I don’t know an- 
other place in town where he could have 
stayed as he has there. Of course, no one 
must know it, even after he has gone.” 

“You can trust me not to tell,” father. 

“I know it, child. You are like your 
mother, for she never disappointed anybody 
who trusted her. What could I do without 
you ?” 

A burden of fear and anxiety was lifted from 
the hearts of Mr. and Mrs. Welcome, when 
they knew their son could once more breathe 
the pure air, and bask in the genial sunshine. 
The mother longed to keep him with her, 
shrinking from the separation she knew was 
best. “ How can I let you go !” she cried. 
“ O, my son, how could you break my heart?” 

This was the first reproach she had uttered ; 
but now, as she felt the pain and loneliness 
to which his sin had condemned her, she 
could no longer keep silence 

It was well that Mr. Welconie could think 


316 


OLD TIMES. 


for others as well as himself, in this parting 
hour. He calmed his wife, and encouraged 
his son, commending each and all to the 
care of Him who giveth liberally and up- 
braideth not. With a foresight which seemed 
to look into coming years, he arranged the 
details of Ben’s iourney, providing for every 
contingency that threatened, and leaving no- 
thing undone which could secure comfort 
and safety. 



THE FIRST FRUITS. 


817 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FIRST FRUITS. 

HUS Ben Welcome came and went, 
while people wondered where he 
could be, and what he would do. 
With never one thought that she 
might have done wrong in concealing a 
criminal, Bashy Turner breathed more freely; 
although she assured her neighbors that she 
had been resting. Again at liberty, she made 
a few old-fashioned visits, spending one day at 
Lem Weston’s, and another with Aunt Betty 
Glines. 

‘H don’t see nothin you have to complain 
of now,” she said to Sally. 

haint nothin,” was the reply; and this 
double negation, so often used, was by no 
means intended as an affirmation. My hus- 
band’s a good man, and there aint nothin but 



318 


OLD TIMES. 


what he’d do for me and the children. He 
works every day, and he don’t spend a cent 
but what we have a share of it. If I knew 
how to use words as well as Mr. Gibson does, 
I should like to preach one Sunday. Seems 
as though I could say something that would 
send them deacons home to pray for light.’' 

You might say it to Deacon Flanders any 
time w^hen you see him,” responded Bashy. 

‘‘I know I might. But some way I can’t. 
I don’t see him very often to speak to him 
either, for all we live so near together.. He 
never liked my husband, and it seems as 
though he didn’t like him as well now as he 
used to. But Susan is a good sister, and 
comes over every time she can. Leazer comes 
too. He and his uncle are great friends. I 
believe they’d talk together from morning till 
night without getting tired. I always love to 
see him comin. He’s a good deal like his 
mother.” 

‘^So he is, everybody knows that,” replied 
the visitor. I guess his father wont make 


THE FIEST FRUITS. 


319 


out to spoil him, and it’s my opinion the dea- 
con’s comin round some. I’m goin there to 
work a spell, and I mean to have a plain talk 
with him, whether he likes, it or not. He 
done well to Deacon Campbell’s raisin.” 

Better than Nate Barnes,” said Mrs. Wes- 
ton, with a laugh. 

‘‘Yes, I guess he did,” was the response. 
“ I haint seen Nate since, though I’ve heard 
he kept round home pretty close for a spell.’^ 

“ I guess he did, and was so ugly, his wife 
couldn’t but just live with him. O dear, 
there’s no end to the trouble liquor makes !” 
And who should say this, if not she who had 
been a drunkard’s wife ? “I should rather die 
than have ray husband take to drinkin again, 
and I’ve told him so a good many times. 
We’ve just begun to live.” 

As the long day was not long enough for 
all that was to be said, Bashy Turner was 
persuaded to spend the night. About eight 
o’clock in the evening the husband and father 
was welcomed home, forgetting hard work and 


320 


OLD TIMES. 


fatigue in the pleasure of meeting his wife and 
children. “Yes, temperance has done a good 
deal for me,” he remarked, v/hen congratulated 
upon the improved condition of himself and 
family. “ But there’s a good many more that 
need it, and I try to talk to them sometimes, 
though it don’t seem to do much good.” 

“ I talk a good deal too, when I suppose it’s 
words wasted; but I’ve got a work to do 
with Deacon Flanders, and I’m goin to do it, 
whether he will hear or forbear. I’ve been 
gettin ready for it this good while.” 

“ And I hope you’ll convert him, Bashy. 
’Twould be a good deal to get him on our 
side. Mr. Welcome’s come round and signed 
his name to the paper, and says he’ll help all 
he can. I guess Ben’s trouble had somethin 
to do with it.” 

As Bashy did not care to talk of Ben Wel- 
come, she changed the subject of conversation, 
and thus no more was said of him. It seemed 
hardly possible that in this comfortable house, 
where plenty smiled and affection lightened 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


321 


labor, she could be visiting the friend whose 
lot had been so hard, and whose future had 
seemed so dark. Every thing was bright, 
pleasant and cheerful, and her visit to Betty 
Glines was equally satisfactory. 

** IVe been thinkin that the Spirit of the 
Lord’s at work among us, and I’m looking for 
a revival of religion,” said the lonely woman. 
“ Seems to me, Mr. Gibson never preached 
as he has lately. You know I can’t do much 
for anybody but pray, and sometimes when 
I’m here alone, I pray most all day.” 

I don’t doubt but what your prayers are 
heard, Mrs. Glines,” replied Bashy. “Your 
prayers and your actions go together, and that’s 
the kind I believe in. Now there’s Deacon Por- 
ter says he prays for the outpouring of God’s 
Spirit amongst us, and I don’t know but he 
does. But there’s one thing certain, he’ll 
have to stop opposin the minister in every 
thing, before I shall have much faith in him. 
He wants somebody to take hold with him, 
and help get rid of Mr. Gibson. I guess 
21 


322 


OLD TIMES. 


though, he’ll have to wait awhile. Deacon 
Willey wont move very fast, and Deacon 
Flanders says everybody may do as they’re 
a mind to, for all him; and now Mr. Wel- 
come’s come out, I guess he’s rather discour- 
aged about makin his plans work.” 

It was not in words alone that Mr. Wel- 
come manifested the change in his opinions. 
His sideboard was cleared of decanters and 
glasses ; he withdrew his patronage from the 
village store where liquor was served to cus- 
tomers, and gave his whole influence in favor 
of total abstinence. With his pastor he talked 
frankly of the events which had wrought this 
change, lamenting the ruin of his son, of 
which he did not hold himself guiltless. He 
encouraged all those who were striving to 
reform their lives, giving a helping hand 
where one was needed. 

As a proof of what good hard work could 
be accomplished by temperance men. Deacon 
Campbell’s barn was boarded, shingled and 
properly partitioned, in less time than so much 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


823 


labor had ever before been accomplished in 
Hardback. Lem Weston was a host in him- 
self, doing good service both as carpenter and 
common laborer. Horace Campbell too, did 
his best, neither complaining of his lot, nor 
seeking to avoid its duties. Yet farm-work 
was not his choice, and even with the best 
intentions, he could not yet think of spending 
his life, as did most of those about him, with- 
out a sigh of regret. Judge then, of his sur- 
prise and delight when, after the last load of 
hay was in the barn, his father said he could 
go to the academy in a neighboring town, at 
any time when he could be ready. I didn’t 
feel as though I could spare you till we got 
through haying,” said the deacon, smiling at 
his son’s astonishment. “ The term has com- 
menced, but I guess you can catch up. You 
are smart enough for that.” 

Mrs. Campbell having known that Horace 
would leave home at this time, had made all 
necessary preparations in the way of clothing, 
so that he was fairly established in school 


324 


OLD TIMES. 


before he had quite recovered from his sur- 
prise. 

Not a grudging word said his father, when 
placing in. his hand an amount sufficient to 
meet all the expenses of the term. Only this, 
** Remember your pledge, my son, and pray to 
be delivered from temptation.'’ 

This event was freely discussed. Some 
condemned, and many wondered how it could 
be afforded. 

Deacon Campbell aint very forehanded,” 
said old Mr. Nichols. ** He’ll find it tough 
work to git along, if he brings up all his boys 
to larnin. Buildin that ere barn and keepin 
Lem so long, can’t leave him much forehand 
this year. He use to be a good calkerlater, 
but lately folks has changed. It makes me 
feel bad to see boys settin up to know more ’n 
their fathers; but I’m e’enamost through, e’ena- 
most through and the palsied hands were 
clasped in a way which, under some circum- 
stances, would have been impressive. His last 
assertion had been so often repeated that no 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


eS25 


one heeded it, yet with the falling leaves of this 
year the old man yielded up his life ; and for 
sweet charity’s sake, let us hope he had sinned 
through ignorance, rather than wilfully. Some 
tears were shed at his burial, and perhaps no 
one doubted that he had been a Christian, 
except Jim Cragin, who whispered his doubts 
to Bashy, only to be reproved. 

** Never talk against the dead,” she said, 
solemnly. ** ’Taint right, and you shouldn’t do 
it. Your mother don’t allow you to.” 

I know she don’t,” answered the boy. 
‘'But I didn’t know you cared anything about 
Grandsir Nichols. I aint a bit sorry he’s dead, 
and Joe aint sorry either.” 

Bashy shook her head at this, and asked 
Jim who was going to teach school in district 
number one next winter. 

“ I don’t know,” he answered. “ I wish 
Horace Campbell would, and so do the other 
boys ; but father says we’ d do better with a 
stranger. They want Horace over in district 
number eight. He’ll be a first-rate teacher; 


326 


OLD TIMES. 


not quite so good as Mr. Hudson, but good 
enough.” 

Horace Campbell would have preferred to 
remain in the academy through the winter, but 
anxious not to tax his father’s means too 
heavily, he decided to teach, hoping to con- 
tinue his studies and enter school again in the 
spring. During the autumn term he made 
rapid progress, measuring himself with others 
of his age, and arriving at a tolerably correct 
estimate of his own powers. His love for 
study so intensified these powers, that to 
others they seemed even greater than to him- 
self, and he was considered quite “ a genius.” 
His father was proud of him all the more, 
when it was known that neither persuasion 
nor ridicule could tempt him from the path 
of duty. 

His old companions, who still considered it 
manly to drain a glass of liquor, and boast 
their independence, wondered how he would 
appear when he came home. This they had 
an opportunity to see during the fortnight’s 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


327 


vacation he spent in hard work on his father's 
farm. 

‘^He aint no more stuck up than I am/* 
remarked Bashy Turner, when speaking of 
Horace to Betty Glines. ‘‘ He goes to work 
just as he used to, and the deacon says there 
can’t nobody beat him. I’ve been thinkin 
for a good while, whether or no he aint a 
Christian.” 

“ I wish it might prove so,” was the fervent 
reply. It’s been a good while since any of 
our young folks was converted, and now as 
there’s so much division in the church, ’twould 
be a great thing if he’d come out. But Mrs. 
Campbell was up here last week, and she 
didn’t say nothin about it. Seems to me she 
would, if ’twas so.” 

She never spoke to me about it. I only 
thought of it myself, and may be I’m mis- 
taken. Mr. Welcome says the deacon’s got 
a good deal to be thankful for, and he hadn’t 
ought to begrudge any money he spends for 
his boys. Aint it a blessin Mr. Welcome’s 


328 


OLD TIMES. 


come round so ? Mr. Gibson haint got no 
better friend than he is.^^ 

''And I haint neither,” said Mrs. Glines. 

He’s good as a father to Samuel, and says 
he’ll help him along. I’ve got some of Ben’s 
old clothes to make over, enough to last my 
Samuel a year. He brought them home on 
Saturday night, and he said Mrs. Welcome 
cried when she give them to him. I don’t 
wonder she did. She’s seen trouble, poor 
woman ; but they say Ben’s gone clear, and 
some folks think he’s out West.” 

" I hope he is,” responded Bashy. " Have 
you been to Lem Weston’s lately?” 

"No, I haint. I’ve meant to go, but I’ve 
been busy. He’s doin as he ought to.” 

"Yes, workin like a trooper, and aint afraid 
to hoe his row with anybody. He’s got a cow, 
and hay enough to keep it this winter. He 
raised a good mess of corn and potatoes too, 
though I don’t see when he got time to do it. 
They’ve got a pig; so take it all round, they’re 
pretty well off. His mother’s come to live 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


329 


with him. Mary's husband drinks so bad 
she don’t feel like stayin there, and Deacon 
Flanders says he’s willin to pay Lem half 
what her board’s worth if she’d rather stay 
there than come to his house. Mary Weston 
threw herself away when she married Eliakim 
Gray, and he’s growin worse every day.” 

I’m sorry for her,” said Mrs. Glines. 
“ Can’t you persuade her husband to give up 
drinkin ?” 

“ I guess not. Any way I don’t feel like 
tryin,” answered Bashy. “ He pins his faith 
to Deacon Flanders, and the deacon’s too 
proud to own he’s been wrong. I don’t 
believe but what he’s convinced ; and there’s 
Leazer, firm as a rock. ’Taint long since he 
signed his name to our temperance pledge, 
down to Deacon Cragin’s, and I heard him 
tell his father of it.” 

“ What did the deacon say ?” 

“ Not a word. His face turned as red as a 
piny, but he didn’t speak. He wouldn’t say 
he approved of it, and he wouldn’t really want 


330 


OLD TIMES. 


to find fault after what’s happened. I’m in 
hopes he’ll come out before long. Mr. Wel- 
come’s been talking with him.” 

Deacon Porter began to grumble loudly 
at the lukewarmness of his brethren in fight- 
ing the new movement, and attempted an- 
other visitation, which failed in the very 
outset. Soon after, however, an opportunity 
occurred, which he did not fail to improve in 
manifesting his contempt for new fashions. 
One of his children, a girl eight years of age, 
died, and as usual there was a large attend- 
ance at the funeral, Mr. Gibson preaching 
a short sermon. 

An abundant supply of liquor was provided, 
that all who wished might drink and be com- 
forted, the bereaved father himself setting the 
example. The ‘‘bearers,” boys from twelve to 
fourteen years of age, were really urged to 
drink, and not having been chosen from 
families where total abstinence was the rule, 
did not refuse. 

It was a sin thus to tempt them with 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


331 


sugared poison, and but for timely assistance 
the result would have been sadly terrible. The 
boys were too much intoxicated to perform 
their part with propriety, and the deacon was 
severely blamed. People were shocked, and 
did not hesitate to express their feelings. 

Deacon Cragin remonstrated with his erring 
brother, but to no effect. Armed with preju- 
dice, obstinacy, and appetite, Deacon Porter 
resented his well-meant efforts as imperti- 
nence. “ I’ve got a mind of my own, and I 
read Scriptur for myself I don’t oblige folks 
to drink,” he said ; and his visitor did not 
consider it best to waste more words. 

The meetings of the temperance society, 
which had been suspended during the summer 
months, were resumed directly after Thanks- 
giving. Notice was given from the pulpit, 
and a hope expressed that there would be a 
full attendance. More than this was unne- 
cessary, as there was a more general interest 
in the subject of temperance than at any 
previous time. At the first meeting it was 


332 


OLD TIMES. 


voted that the ofificers of the society retain 
their position for another year. Short speeches 
were made, songs were sung, and the best of 
feeling prevailed. Among others who attended 
was Eleazer Flanders, whose coming was more 
of a surprise to himself than to any one else. 
The day previous, his father had said to him, 
“You can go to the meetin to-morrow night, 
if you want to. I haint any objections and 
the boy took advantage of this permission, 
although he would not have asked it. 

Horace Campbell had commenced his 
school under favorable auspices. The teacher 
in number one as nearly made good the place 
of George Hudson, as was possible. The 
scholars under his care found their thoughts 
quickened, and their ambition aroused. The 
old people liked him for his cheerful piety 
and genial manners. He, as a temperance 
man, was expected to aid in every good word 
and work. Betty Glines wished her boy could 
attend his school, for, as she said to Bashy 
Turner, it seemed to her he Wcis “ goin to 


THE FIRST FRUITS. 


333 


have somethin to do with the revival in 
Hardback.” This remark was made when 
no one could see any reason for expecting 
a revival, yet the good woman was not dis- 
appointed. Lemuel Weston and wife, with 
Horace Campbell, offered themselves as can- 
didates for admission to the church. 

Deacon Porter asked Mr. Weston what first 
led him to think seriously of his soul’s salva- 
tion, and the prompt answer was made, When 
1 gave up the use of liquor, I knew I must 
have God’s help to fight the battle with my 
appetite. I prayed for help, and the forgive- 
ness of my sins.” 

In reply to the same question, Mrs. Weston 
said she had been moved by her husband’s 
prayers, and the change in his conduct. 
Horace Campbell dated his first serious im- 
pressions from the time when he had decided 
to lead a life of total abstinence from all 
intoxicating drinks. 

This did not please Deacon Porter, who 
professed to doubt the genuineness of con- 


834 


OLD TIMES. 


version under such circumstances, taking 
occasion to speak at length upon what he 
considered the essential doctrines of the 
Bible. ’Taint no time for secular things,” 
he remarked, with much asperity. They 
haint nothin to do with religion, and them 
that has the oversight of the church must 
be careful of its interests.” No one making 
reply to him, and his objections to the candi- 
dates being evidently considered of no im- 
portance, he retired, with the air of a martyr. 
After this he was often heard to lament the 
low state of religion, and the want of spiritoo- 
ality” in the church, attributing it to the fact 
that Scriptur ” was perverted, and man's 
counsel preached instead of God's, 



THE GRAND RESULTS. 


335 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE GRAND RESULTS. 

EACON PORTER’S influence was 
on the wane. The church rejoiced 
at the accession to their numbers, 
and gathered around the communion 
table with thankful hearts. Even Deacon 
Flanders was moved, as he presented the 
emblems of the sacrament to his brother- 
in-law. It was an inclement day, but Betty 
dines could not remain at home when such 
a feast was offered, and many an aged Chris- 
tian wept tears of joy for very thankfulness. ^ 
Mr. Gibson found it difflcult to command his 
voice, while a deep solemnity pervaded the 
congregation. People went to their homes 
to reflect and pray. The neighborhood prayer- 
meetings that week were well attended, with 
the exception of that holden at Deacon Por- 




836 


OLD TIMES. 


ter’s. Bashy Turner, who was sewing at one 
of his nearest neighbors, absolutely refused 
to go. 

rather have a meetin all alone, than 
hear Deacon Porter talk,’' she said, with great 
emphasis. ‘‘ I haint nothin to say against 
him, but ’twouldn’t do me no good to go 
to his meetin. If ’twasn’t so far. I’d go to 
Mr. Whitney’s.” 

It did not seem quite right to go out of 
the district; but, after some debate, it was 
decided that Mr. Morgan and his family 
should attend the meeting at Mr. Whitney’s, 
where the minister was expected, and where 
they might reasonably hope to be bene- 
fited. 

This was the commencement of a revival 
which extended very generally throughout 
the town. Yet it was a noticeable fact, that 
in those families where the temperance move- 
ment had been opposed, few were brought to 
Christ; while those who had first espoused 
the cause were greatly blessed. During the 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 337 

progress of the revival, Deacon Flanders 
acknowledged publicly that he had been 
wrong, and asked the forgiveness of his 
brethren. He thanked Bashy Turner for 
her faithfulness, and bade her God speed 
in the good work, telling her not to be 
discouraged. 

No more than I expected, ’’ exclaimed 
Deacon Porter. ** He’s been whifflin round a 
good while, but there needn’t nobody expect 
me to change.” 

The following summer a large accession 
was made to the church, and Mr. Gibson had 
reason to feel that his labors had not been in 
vain, although some of his people continued 
to look upon him coldly. 

Meanwhile, one of his friends was passing 
through a severe experience. About three 
years before, Mr. Whitney had assisted a 
relative by undersigning a note for what was 
to him a large amount. But having the 
utmost confidence in this relative, he gave 
himself no further thought about it, until he 


838 


OLD TIMES. 


was informed that the note had matured, 
and payment must be made by himself. 

Mr. Welcome at once came forward, offering 
to advance the money, and take a mortgage 
on his farm, allowing him^an indefinite length 
of time for its redemption. “ If worst comes 
to worst, I will buy your land west, at a' fair 
price. Ben wrote in his last letter that the 
value was increasing, so you wont lose every- 
thing. It’s a hard case, brother Whitney, but 
I’ve seen deeper trouble than losing money.” 

“ I know it, and I ought not to complain,” 
was the reply. If I was a young man, I’d 
go west and improve that land, but it’s hard 
at my time of life to leave home. I’ve 
expected the boys would go some time, and 
I shouldn’t make any objections. Do you 
mean to go this fall, Mr. Welcome?” 

“ I’ve been thinking about it, brother Whit- 
ney. I want to see Ben, and my wife thinks 
I ought to go. He writes good letters, and 
seems as though he w^as changed. But I 
could tell better to see him. If we could 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


339 


Spare you here, I should be glad to have you 
settle out there with him. He writes that he 
has raised great crops this year.” 

The note was paid, and the farm was mort- 
gaged ; Mr. Whitney blaming himself that 
by a few strokes of his pen he had so 
wronged his children. They, however, did not 
complain, although his daughter shed some 
tears in secret, and the boys mourned over 
the anticipated loss of some privileges upon 
which they had counted. 

‘‘ It is no time to indulge in gloomy fore- 
bodings.” Triphena said this resolutely, while 
discussing the matter with her brothers. " We 
must all go to work, and see what we can do.” 

‘‘ Have we got to give up our papers, and 
not have any more books?” asked Frank. 
“ Jim Cragin said old Mr. Sprague said so, but 
he didn’t believe it.” 

*'Vo2i needn’t believe it either,” was the 
reply. I’ll manage that. It wont be neces- 
sary to starve our bodies, or minds either. 
If Aunt Betty Glines could pay a hundred 


340 


OLD TIMES. 


dollars on her place, it’s a pity if we can’t 
clear this farm. We must pay the interest, 
and two hundred dollars every year, and we 
must be sure father don’t get discouraged. 
I’ve thought it all over, and I know just 
how it can be done.” 

I guess you know everything now,” said 
Frank, his face glowing with enthusiasm. 

I’ll do just exactly as you say, and I wont 
let father feel bad a minute.” 

Many expected there would be a decided 
change in this home, to which refinement 
and intelligence had given such a charm, 
but they were disappointed. The fire burned 
brightly as ever, and there was not one paper 
or book the less. Bashy Turner could have 
told how some articles of dress were turned 
and remade so skilfully that no one would 
recognize them. Betty Glines knew that the 
usual web of flannel was not made, yet the 
family were as well and comfortably clothed 
as ever, no one dreaming how busy fingers 
pieced and mended. 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


341 


Mr. Whitney was astonished to find his 
expenses so much reduced, while he experi- 
enced no diminution of comforts. His farm 
yielded a larger income than usual, and the 
first payment on the mortgage was made 
without any difficulty. 

I’m glad it’s paid, but it’s a shame for 
us to work and pay Mr. Freeman’s debts,” 
remarked John to his sister. “I should like 
to give that man a piece of my mind. And 
then to think it’s all because of drinking. 
That’s the worst of it. I guess I hate liquor 
as much as Bashy does. I heard her talk- 
ing to Deacon Willey about it the other 
day, and she told him she hated liquor 
worse than pison.” 

” Looking back !” said his sister, with a 
smile. ‘‘You promised at one time to look 
forward.” 

” I know I did, Pheny, but I can’t always. 
I aint so good as you are; it’s harder for 
me to do right, though I try, and pray for 
help. I believe I’m getting discontented. I 


842 


OLD TIMES. 


want to go out West. I wish you and father 
were willing to go.” 

“ I should be willing to go if father thought 
it was best,” was the reply. ‘‘ He thinks he 
is too old, and you are too young. He 
needs your help here at home.” 

*'l know it all,” interrupted John. ‘‘I’ll 
wait till I am twenty-one; and when I’ve 
earned enough to carry me there. I’ll go 
and try my luck. Father says I under- 
stand farming well enough to manage for 
myself, and Mr. Welcome says it’s the place 
for me out there. It’s my ambition to be 
a rich, intelligent farmer. Horace Campbell 
may go through college, but I’ll find my 
college out of doors; and I’ll go back to 
work now, without any more grumbling.” 

Ben Welcome had now been in the West 
a year and a half, and his settlement there 
was no secret. His father, who had visited 
him, was more than satisfied with the entire 
change in his habits. Hard work and coarse 
fare developed his strength, both mental and 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


343 


physical, and if sometimes he chafed at lone- 
liness and isolation, he never forgot that he 
deserved far more severe punishment. 

Coming in contact, as he did, with many 
who had thrown off all the restraints of 
morality, he was often sorely tempted. The 
intoxicating bowl had been held to his lips, 
when his brain fairly reeled with the effort 
to resist its fascination. Yet through all, 
he remained true to his pledge, having won 
the sobriquet of “ parson,” for his strict 
habits and fearless rebuke of sin. 

Another year went by, and although the 
first flush of enthusiasm which character- 
izes every reform had given place to a more 
sober feeling, temperance still received its 
due share of attention in Hardback. Of all 
who had enlisted under its banners not one 
had deserted. Families were happier; there 
was less of faultfinding and more of genuine 
affection; the Christian graces were exempli- 
fied, and religion was honored by the conduct 
of its professors. 


344 


OLD TIMES. 


But there was another side to this picture. 
Those who talked most loudly of liberty and 
moderation, were, in point of numbers, a 
respectable minority, exerting no small influ- 
ence in the town. Mr. Gibson felt this keenly, 
and when he received a call to settle in a 

thriving village, where his sphere of useful- 

« 

ness would be enlarged, he thought best to 
accept. 

There was strong opposition to this among 
his friends, both old and young, yet the 
council, to whom the whole matter was 
referred, saw fit to dismiss him from his 
present charge. Then commenced the hear- 
ing of candidates, and the discussion of their 
merits, over which I have not time to linger. 
In this it was plainly evident that there 
were still two parties in the church ; yet to 
the credit of Hardback be it said, the min- 
ister who was at length settled was a strong 
temperance man, who preached the truth 
fearlessly. 

Mr. Gibson^s friends gave hini thejr hearty 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


345 


support, even while lamenting the change. 
Mr. Welcome treated him most kindly. The 
Whitney family were cordial, although the loss 
of his pastor was a sore trial to one who 
felt himself burdened with care and anxiety 
more than with the weight of years. 

“Father’s breaking down fast,” said John 
Whitney to his sister, one evening when 
they were alone. What do you say to clear- 
ing the farm, this year at all hazards ?“ 

“ I should say, do it, if possible," was the 
reply. “ I am willing to make any sacrifice 
myself." 

“ So am I," responded John. “ I’ve had a 
grand offer for my colts, and I’m going to sell 
them. Don’t say a word against it, Pheny, or 
you’ll see me crying like a baby. I wouldn’t 
let them go if there was any other way." 

But Mr. Whitney opposed the sale of these 
colts, and John relinquished his scheme, 
although still determined to clear the farm in 
some way. Before the close of the year, 
relief came in a . way least expected. Mr. 


346 


old' times. 


Freeman, for whom the debt had been incurred, 
paid to his friend more than sufficient to 
cancel the amount then due to Mr. Welcome. 

John did not go west, as he had intended. 
His father’s health continuing to fail, it was 
necessary that he should remain at home ; and 
when he with his brother and sister were 
orphaned, he would not think of going alone. 
All would go, or none; and the good sister, 
who would in no way hamper the lives of 
those she loved, consented to exchange her 
home among the New England hills, for one 
on a western prairie. Farm, stock and farm- 
ing utensils were sold at auction, while house- 
hold goods were packed in the smallest pos- 
sible compass. 

In this labor Bashy Turner rendered effi- 
cient aid, talking as she worked, to hide her 
emotion. “ Look out for me next year,” she 
said, forcing back her tears. “ Most every- 
body’s got the western fever, and ’twouldn’t be 
strange if I should catch it from somebody. 
There’s Deacon Cragin’s boys all atilt, and 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


347 


Horace Campbell says he’s goin when he gets 
through studyin. Leazer Flanders don’t give 
his Uncle Lem no peace, teazin him to go. 
Sam Glines begins to talk about it top, no 
older ’n he is, and ’twouldn’t be none strange 
if he was a lawyer out there, some time. I tell 
you, old Hardback has waked up since that 
first temperance meetin. Our boys and girls 
are goin to be somebody, and I’m proud of 
them, if they don’t any of them belong to me. 
You tell Ben Welcome that, will you, Pheny?’* 
If I see him,” was the demure reply. 
‘‘Well, remember it the first time you see 
him. I’m in a hurry to have him know it.’* 
Notwithstanding this charge, Triphena Whit- 
ney did not remember it the first time she saw 
Ben Welcome. Indeed, she remembered very 
little at that moment. Her thoughts were 
wholly absorbed in the present. 

The bronzed and bearded man who greeted 
her and her brothers after a fatiguing day’s 
ride, would hardly have been recognized but 
for the familiar flash of his eye, and the musi- 


348 


OLD TIMES. 


cal tones of a voice, which once heard, could 
not be forgotten. 

How you have .changed!” exclaimed 
John. 

‘‘ I am glad you think so. There was need 
enough of change;” and then making haste to 
speak of other things, Ben added: ‘‘You wont 
find your house like the one you left. But it’s 
the best in the neighborhood, and some time 
you can have a better one. That’s the charm 
of living here. We are always looking for- 
ward. I hope you won’t be homesick.” 

“We shant, as long as we have Pheny,” 
said Frank, decidedly. “Some of the folks 
thought we ought to come without her; but 
I wouldn’t think of such a thing. She’s the 
best sister in the world. She never gets dis- 
couraged.” 

Never quite discouraged, yet the next day, 
when left alone, it seemed perfectly natural 
that she should indulge in a good cry. She 
heard a step, and without giving it special 
heed, supposed it to be her brother’s. A pair 


THE GRAND RESULTS. 


349 


of strong arms were thrown around her, and 
she looked up into the face of Ben Wel- 
come. 

I thought it was John,” she said in much 
confusion, seeking to release herself. 

‘^And you see it is Ben,” replied her 
companion, gently detaining her. Don’t 
send me away from you. I am a better 
man than I was six years ago. You loved 
me once, and I have loved you through all 
these weary years.” 

Of course, John and Frank were greatly 
surprised at this turn of affairs. Yet they 
made no opposition, perhaps because they 
knew it would be useless, and perhaps be- 
cause each dreamed of some fair, sweet girl, 
whom he would call by a dearer name than 
sister.” 

It’s all turned out just as I expected,” 
said Bashy Turner. ‘‘There’s Mr. Welcome 
going to take Fanny Campbell out there to 
be married to John Whitney, and there’s no 
tellin. what ’ll happen next.” 


350 


OLD TIMES. 


What happened next, I have not space to 
record, but old Hardback sent forth other 
sons and daughters to this thriving western 
settlement, which, in the lapse of years, has 
become an enterprising city, lying far east 
of the centre of our country. 

Horace Campbell, a finished scholar and 
eloquent preacher, grasps the hand of his 
brother-in-law, a rich and intelligent farmer. 
Pheny, as she is still called by her husband, 
has proved no less wise in training her chil- 
dren than in helping to mould the characters 
of her brothers; while the luxurious home, 
over which she presides, is more attractive 
for the refinement and taste which pervade 
it, than for all of elegant adorning which 
wealth has purchased. ' 

Frank Whitney waited long for his wdfe, 
but Abby Weston was worth the waiting; 
and Uncle Lem,” as the old-time drunkard 
of Hardback was called, lived to see his 
daughters well and happily married. 

Jim Cragin, a wealthy railroad contractor, 


THE GIIAND RESULTS. 


351 


is irrepressible as ever, although wife and 
children gather about him, and gray hairs 
remind him that he is growing older. He 
still sings “Yankee Doodle Temperance,’^ 
with “ Hardback girls and boys,” who often 
meet to talk of their New England home, 
and compare the present with the past. And 
Sam Glines — no one would forget him — a 
noble Christian lawyer, honored among men, 
and approved of God. 

Will not the work of these sons make 
as fair a record as that of their fathers ? 

“ Say not thou. What is the cause that 
the former days were better than these ? for 
thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this.” 



o 






PUBLICATIONS 



OF THE 

ational temperance 



^ND J^UBLICATION JioUSE. 


'Y'HE National Temperance Society, organized in 1866 for the purpose 
of supplying a sound and able Temperance literature, have already 
stereotyped and published two hundred and seventy-five publications of 
all sorts and sizes, from the one-page tract up to the bound volume of 500 
pages. This list comprises books, tracts, and pamphlets, containing 
essays, stories, sermons, arguments, statistics, history, etc., upon every 
phase of the question. Special attention has been given to the department 


For Sunday-School Libraries. 

Over forty volumes have already been issued, written by some of the best 
authors in the land. These have been carefully examined and unani- 
mously approved by the Publication Committee of the Society, represent- 
ing the various religious denominations and Temperance organizations of 
the country, which consists of the following members : 


PETER CARTER, 

Rev. W. M. TAYLOR, 
A. A. ROBBINS, 

Rev. M. C. SUTPHEN, 
T. A. BROUWER, 

J. N. STEARNS, 


Rev. J. B. DUNN, 

Rev. a. G. LAWSON, 
Rev. ALFRED TAYLOR, 
R. R. SINCLAIR, 

Rev. C. D. FOSS, 

JAMES BLACK, 


Rev. william HOWELL TAYLOR. 


These volumes have been cordially commended by leading clergymen 
of all denominations, and by various national and State bodies, all over 
the land. 

The following is the list, which can be procured through the regular 
Sunday-School trade, or by sending direct to the rooms of the Society : 


Rev. Dr. Willoughby and his Wine. i2mo, 458 pages. By Mrs. Mary 
Spring Walker, author of “ The Family Doctor,” etc, . . . $1 50 

This thrillingly interesting book depicts in a vivid manner the terrible influence exerted by 
those who stand as the servants of God, and who sanction the social custom of wine-drinking. 
It is fair and faithful to the truth. It is not a bitter tirade against the church or the ministry. 
On the contrary, it plainly and earnestly acknowledges that the ministry is the friend of morali'y, 
and the great bulwark of practical virtue. 


At Lion’s Mouth. i2mo, 410 pp. By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, author 
of “ Temperance Doctor,” ” Out of the Fire,” “ Aunt Dinah’s 
Pledge,” etc., $1 25 

This is one of the best books ever issued, written in a simple yet thrilling and interest- 
ing style. It speaks boldly for the entire suppression of the liquor traffic, depicting vividly the 
misery and wrongs resulting from it. The Christian tone is most excellent, showing the neces.- 
sity of God’s grace in the heart to overcome temptation and the power of appetite, and the 
influence which one zealous Christian can exert upon his companions and the community. 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Annt Dinah’s Pledge. i2mo, 318 
.pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
GhelliSj author of “ Temperance 
Doctor,’^ “ Out of the Fire,” 
etc., $1 2o 


Aunt Dinah was an eminent Christian wo- 
man. Her pledge included swearing and smok- 
drinking. It saved her boj's, 


ing, as well as 


who lived useful lives, and died happy ; and 
by quiet, yet loving and persistent work, names 
of many others were added who seemed almost 
beyond hope of salvation. 


The Temperance Doctor. i2mo, 370 
pages. By Miss Mary Dwinell 
Chellis, $1 25 

This is a true story, replete with interest, 
and adapted to Sunday-school and family^ead- 
ing In it we have graphically depicted the 
sad ravages that are caused by the use ol intox- 
icating beverages ; also, the blessings of Tem- 
perance, and what may be accomplished by one 
earnest soul for that reform. It ought to find 
readers in every household. 

Out of the Fire. i2mo, 420 pages. 
By Miss Mary Dwinell Chellis, 
author of “ Deacon Sim’s Pray- 


ers,” etc., $1 25 

It is one ol the most effective and impressive 
Temperance books ever published. The evils 


of the drinking customs of society, and the 
blessings of sobriety and total abstinence, are 
strikingly developed in the history of various 
families m the community. 

History of a Threepenny Bit. iSmo^ 
216 pages, $0 7 o 

This is a thrilling story, beautifully illus- 
trated with five choice wood engravings. The 
story of little Peggy, the drunkard’s daughter, 
is told in such a simple yet interesting manner 
that no one can read it without realizing more 
than ever before the nature and extent of in- 
temperance, and sympathizing more than ever 
with the patient, suffering victim. It should 
be in every Sunday-school librarj'. 

Adopted. i8mo, 236 pages. By 
Mrs. E. J. Richmond, author of 
“ The McAllisters,” . . . $0 60 

This book is written in an easy, pleasant 
yle, seems to be true to nature, true to itself, 
and withal is full of the Gospel and Temper- 
ance. 


The Red Bridge. i8mo, 321 pages. ! 
By Thrace Talman, . . $0 90 

We have met with few Temperance stories 
containing so many evidences of decided ability 
and high literary excellence as this. 


The Old Brown Pitcher. i2mo, 
222 pages. - By the Author of 
“Susie^s Six Birthdays,” ‘‘The 
Flower of the Family,” etc., $1 00 

Beautifully illustrated. This admirable vol- 
ume for boys and girls, containing original 
stories bj’ some of the most gifted, writers for 
the young, will be eagerly welcomed by the 
children. It is adapted alike for the family 
circle and the Sabbatn-school library. 

Our Parish. i8mo, 252 pages. By 
Mrs. Emily Pearson, , . $0 75 

The manifold evils resulting from the “ still ” 
to the owner’s family, as well as to the families 
of his customers, are truthfully presented. The 
characters introduced, such as are found in 
almost every good-sized village, are well por- 
trayed. We can unhesita’ingly commend it, 
and bespeak for it a wide circulation. ' 

The Hard Master. i8mo, 278 pages, 
By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, au- 
thor of “ One Hundred Gold Dol- 
lars,” and other popular Sunday- 
School books, $0 85 

This intere.sting narrative of the temptations, 
trials, Iiardships, and fortunes of poor orphan 
boy illustrates in a most striking manner the 
value of “ right principles,” especially of 
honesty truthfulness, and Temperance. 

Echo Bank, i8mo, 269 pages. By 
Ervie, $0 85 

This is a well-written and deeply interesting 
narrative, in which is clearly shown the suffer- 
ing and sorrow that too often follow and the 
dangers that attend boys and young men at 
school and at college, who suppose they can 
easily take a glass or two occasionally, with- 
out fear of ever being aught more than a mode- 
rate drinker. 

Rachel Noble’s Experience. i8mo, 
325 pages. By Bruce Edwards. 

$0 90 

This is a story of thrilling interest, ably and 
eloquently told, and is an excellent book for 
Sunday-school libraries. It is just the book for 
the home circle, and cannot be read without 
benefiting the reader and advancing the cause 
of Temp^ance. 

Gertie’s Sacrifice; or Glimpses at 
Two Lires. i8mo, 189 pages. By 
Mrs. F. D. Gage, . . . . $0 50 

A story of great interest and power, giving a 
“ glimpse at two lives,” and showing how 
Gertie sacrificed herself at a victim of fashion, 
custom, and law. 


3 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Time will Tell. i2mo, 307 pages. 
By Mrs. Wilson, .... $1 00 

A Temperance tale of thrilling interest and 
nnexceptionable moral and religious tone. It 
is full of incidents and characters of everyday 
life, while its lessons are plainly and forcibly 
set before the reader. The pernicious results 
of the drinking usages in the family and social 
circle are plainly set forth. 

Philip Eckert’s Struggles and 
Triumphs. i8ino, 216 pages. By 
the author of “ Margaret Clair,’’ 

.$0 00 

This interesting narrative of a noble, manly 
boy* in an intemperate home, fighting with the 
wrong and battling for the right, should be 
read by every child in the land. 

Jug-Or-Not. i2mo, 346 pages. By 
Mrs. J. McNair Wright, author 
of “John and the Demijohn,” 
“Almost a Nun,” “ Priest and 
Nun, ’’etc., $1 25 

It is one of her best books, and treats of the 
physical and hereditary etfects of drinking in a 
clear, plain, and familiar style, adapted to 
popular 1 ending, and which should be read by 
all classes in the community, and find a place 
in every Sunday-school library. 


Prank Oldfield ; or, Lost and Found. 
i2mo, 408 pages, . . . . $1 50 

This excellent story received the prize of 
j£100 in England, out of eighty-three manu- 
scripts submitted ; and by an arrangement 
with the publishers we publish it in this coun- 
try with all the original illustrations. It is 
admirably adapted to Sunday-school libraries. 

Tom Billin’ s Temperance Society, 
and other Stories. 121110, 316 
pages, $1 25 

Tins is the title of a new book written by 
T. tS. Akthur, the well-known author of “ Ten 
Nights in a Bar-room,” and whose fame as an 
autlior should be^eak for it a wide circulation. 
It is written in Mr. Arthur’s best style, com 
posed of a series of tales adapted to every family 
:uid library in the land. 

Tlie Barker Family. i2mo, 336 

pages. By Emily Thompson, 

$1 25 

A simple, spirited, and interesting narrative, 
written in a style especi.ally attractive, depict- 
ing the evils that arise from intemperance, and 
the blessings that followed the earnest efforts 
of those who sought to win others to the paths 
of total abstinence. Illustrated with three en- 
gravings. The book will please all. 


The Broken Hock. i8mo, 139 pages. 

By Kruna, author of “ Lift a 

Little,” etc., $0 50 

It beautifully illustrates the silent and holy 
influence of a meek and lowly spirit upon the 
heartless rumseller until the rocky heart was 
broken. 

Andrew Douglass. i8mo, 232 pages, 

$0 75 

A new Temperance story for Sunday-schools, 
written in a lively, energetic, and popular 
ityle, adapted to the Sabbath-school and the 
family circle. 

Vow at the Bars. i8mo, 108 pages. 

$0 40 

It contains four short tales, illustrating four 
important principles connected with the Tem- 
perance movement, and is well adapted for the 
family circle and Sabbath-school libraries. 

Job Tufton’s Rest. i2mo, 332 

pages, $1 25 

A story of life’s struggles, written by the 
gifted author, Clara Lucas Balfour, depict- 
ing most skilfully and truthfully many a life- 
struggle with the demon of intemperance oc- 
curring all along life’s pathway. It i s a finely 
written story, and full of interest from the be- 
ginning to toe end. 


Come Horae, Mother. i8mo, 143 
pages. By Nelsie Brook. Il- 
lustrated with six choice engrav- 
ings, f 0 50 

A most effective and inlcresting book, de- 
scribing the downward course of the mother, 
and giving an account of the sad scenes, but ef- 
fectual ende.avors, of the little one in bringing 
her mother back to friends, and leading lier to 
God. It should be read by everybody. 

Tim’s Troubles. 12010, 350 pages. 
By Miss M. A. Paull, . . $1 50 

This is the second Prize Book of tlie United 
Kingdom Band of Hope Union, and which has 
been reprinted in this country with all the ori- 
ginal illustrations. It is the companion of 
“ Frank Oldfield,” written in a high tone, and 
will be found a valuable addition to our Tem- 
perance literature. 

The Drinking Fountain Stories. 
i2mo, 192 pages, . . . . $1 00 

This book of illustrated stories for children 
contains articles from the pens of some of the 
best writers for children in America, and is 
beautifully illustrated with forty choice wood 
engravings. Itisinterspersed with shortstories 
and anecdotes, and should be in every Sunday- 
school library and in the hands of every child 
in the land. 


3 


The National Temperance Society's Books, 


Hopedale Tavern, and What it 
Wrought. i2mo, 252 pages. By 
J. William Van Namee, . $1 00 

It shows the sad results which followed the 
introduction of a Tavern and Bar in a beauti- 
ful and quiet country town, whose inhabitants 
had hitherto lived in peace and enjoyment 
The contrast is too plainly presented to fail to 
produce an impression on the reader, making 
all more desirous to abolish the sale of all in- 
toxicants 

Roy’s Search; or, Lost in the Cars. 
i2mo, 364 pages. By Helen C. 
Pearson, $1 25 

This new Temperance book is one of the 
most interesting ever published— written in a 
fresh, sparkling style, especially adapted to 
please the boys, and contains so much that 
will benefit as well as amuse and interest that 
we wish all the boys in the land might read it. 

How Could He Escape! i2mo, 324 
pages. By Mrs. J. NcNair 
Wright, author of “Jug-Or- 
Not.” Illustrated with ten en- 
gravings, designed by the au- 
thor^ $1 25 

This is a true tale, and one of the writer’s 
best productions. It shows the terrible effects 
of even one glass of intoxicating liquor upon 
the system of one unable to resist its influences, 
and the necessity of grace in the heart to resist 
temptation and overcome the appetite for strong 
drink. 

The Best Fellow in the World. 
i2mo, 352 pages. By Mrs. J. 
McNair Wright, author of “ Jug- 
Or-Not,” “ How Could He Es- 
cape?” “ Priest and Nun,” etc., 

$1 25 

“The Best Fellow,” whose course is here 
portrayed, is one of a very large class who are 
Jed astray and ruined simply because they are 
such “ good fellows.” To all such the volume 
speaks in thrilling tones of warning, shows the 
inevitable consequences of indulging in strong 
drink, and the necessity of divine grace in the 
heart to interpose and save from ruim. 

Frank Spencer’s Rule of Life. 
i8mo, 180 pages. By John W. 
Kirton, author of “Buy Your 
Own Cherries,” “ Four Pillars of 
Temperance,” etc., etc., . $0 50 

This is written in the author’s best style, 
making an interesting and attractive story lor 

ohildrttB. 


j The Pitcher of Cool Water. i8mo, 
180 pages. By T. S. Arthur, 
author of “ Tom Blinn’s Temper- 
ance Society,” “ Ten Nights in a 
Bar-room,” etc., . . . . $0 50 

This little book consists of a series of Tem- 
perance stories, handsomely illustrated, written 
in Air. Akthur’s best style, and is altogether 
one of the best books which can be placed in 
the hands of children. Every Sunday-school 
library should possess it. 

Little Girl in Black. i2mo, 212 
pages. By Margaret E. Wil- 
MER, $0 90 

Her strong faith in God, who she believes 
will reclaim an erring father, is a lesson to the 
reader, old Jis well as young. 

Temperance Anecdotes. i2mo, 288 

pages, $1 00 

This new book of Temperance Anecdotes, 
edited by George W. Bungay, contains near- 
ly four hundred Anecdotes, Witticisms, Jokes, 
Conundrums, etc , original and selected, and 
will meet a want long felt and often expressed 
by a very large number of the numerous friends 
of the cause in the land. The book is hand- 
somely illustrated with twelve choice wood 
engravings. 

The Temperance Speaker. By J. 

N. Stearns, . . . , . . . $0 75 

The book contains 288 pages of Declamations 
and Dialogues suitable lor Sunday and Day- 
Schools, Bands of Hope, and Temperance Or- 
ganizations. It consists of choice selections 
of prose and poetry, both new and old, from 
the Temperance orators and writers of the 
country, many of which have been written ex- 
pressly for this work. 

The McAllisters. i8mo, 211 pages. 
By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, . $0 50 

It shows the ruin brought on a family by the 
father’s intemperate habits, and the strong 
faith and trust of the wife in that Friend above 
who alone gives strength to bear our earthly 
trials. 

The Seymours. i2mo, 231 pages. 
By Miss L. Bates, . . . $1 00 

A simple story, showing how a refined and 
cultivated family are brought low through the 
drinking habits of the father, their joy and sop 
row as he reforms only to fall a^in, and hi« 
final happy rele.ase In a distant city. 




4 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Eva’s Engagement Ring. i 2 mo, 189 
pages. By Margaret E. Wit- 
her, author of ‘‘ The Little Girl 
in Black,” $0 90 

In this interesting volume is traced the career 
of the moderate drinker, who take* a glass in 
the name of friendship or courtesy. 

Packington Parish, and The Diver’s 
Daughter. lamo, 327 pages. By 
Miss M. A. Paull, . . . $1 25 

In this volume we see the ravages which 
the liquor traffic caused when introduced in a 
hitherto quiet village, and how a minister’s eyes 
were at length opened to its evils, though he 
had always declared wine to be a “ good 
creature of God,” meant to be used in modera- 
tion. 

Old Times. lamo. By Miss M. D. 
Chellis, author of “ The Tem- 
perance Doctor,” “ Out of the 
Fire,” “ Aunt Dinah’s Pledge,” 
“At Lion’s Mouth,” etc., . $1 25 

It discusses the whole subject of moderate 
drinking in the history of a New England vil- 
lage. The incidents, various and amusing, are 
all facts, and the characters nearly all drawn 
from real life. The five deacons which figure 
so conspicuously actually lived and acted as re- 
presented. 


The Fire Fighters. i 2 mo, 294 pages. 
By Mrs. J. E. McConaughy, au- 
thor of “ The Hard Master,” 

$1 25 

An admirable story, showing how a number 
of young lads banded themselves into a society 
to fight against Alcohol, and the good they did 
in the community. 

The Jewelled Serpent. i 2 mo, 271 
pages. By Mrs. E. J. Richmond, 
author of “ Adopted,” “The Mc- 
Allisters,” etc., $1 25 

The story i « written earnestly. The charac- 
ters are well delineated, and taken from the 
wealthy and fashionable portion of a 1 orge city. 
The evils which flow from fashionable drink- 
ing are well portrayed, and also the danger 
arising from the use of intoxicants when used as 
medicine, forming an appetite which fastens 
itself with a deadly hold uponits victim. 

The Hole in the Bag, and Other 
Stories. By Mrs. J. P. Ballard. 
author of “ The Broken Rock,’ 
“ Lift a Little,” etc. lamo, $1 25 

A collection of well-written stories by this 
most popular author on the subject of temper- 
ance, inculcating many valuable lessons in the 
minds of its readers. 


The Yeuth’s Temperance Banner. 

The National Temperance Society and Publication House publish a 
beautifully illustrated Monthly Paper, especially adapted to children and 
youth, Sunday-school and Juvenile Temperance Organizations. Each 
number contains several choice engravings, a piece of music, and a great 
variety of articles from the pens of the best writers for children in America. 
It should be placed in the hands of every child in the land. 


Terms — In Advance. 


Single copies, one year, . . .$0 25 
Ei^t copies, to one address, 1 00 

Ten “ “ 1 25 

Fifteen “ “ ’’ 1 88 

Twenty “ “ “ 2 50 


Thirty copies to one address, .$3 75 

Forty “ “ “ 5 00 

Fifty “ “ “ 6 25 

One Hundred “ “ 12 00 


Children’s Tracts. 

A series of forty-live illustrated children’s tracts have been published, 
adapted for circulation in Sunday-schools. Per thousand, .4?3. 

Packet of Pictorial Tracts for Children, $0 25 

A valuable packet of 72 of the above Tracts for the Children, suitable 
for distribution in Sunday-Schools, Bands of Hope, and other Juvenile 
Temperance organizations. 


S 


The National Temperance Society s Books 


Miscellaneous Publications. 


Forty Years’ Fight with the Drink 
Demon. i 2 ino, 400 pages. By 
Charles Jewett, M.D., . $1 50 

This volume comprises the history of Dr. 
Jewett’s public and private labors from 1826 to 
the present time, with sketches of the most 
popular and distinguished advocates of the 
cause in Its earlier stages. It also records the 
results of forty years’ observation, study, and 
reflections upon the use of intoxicating drinks 
and drugs, and suggestions as to the best 
methods of advancing the cause, etc. The book 
is handsomely bound, and contains illustrated 
portraits of early champions of the cause. 

Drops of Water. i 2 mo, 133 pages. 
By Miss Ella Wheeler, $0 75 

A new book of fifty-six Temperance Poems 
by this young and talented authoress, suitable 
for reading in Temperance Societies, Lodge 
Rooms, Divisions, etc. The simplicity of man- 
ner, be.auty of expression, earnestness of 
thought, and nobleness of sentiment running 
through all of them make this book a real 
gem, worthy a place by the side of any of the 
poetry in the country. 

Bound Volume of Tracts. 500 
pages, $1 00 

This volume contains all the four, eight, and 
twelve page tracts published by the National 
Temperance Society, including all the jjrize 
tracts issued the last two years. The book 
comprises Arguments, Statistics, Sketches, and 
Essays, which make it an invaluable collection 
for every friend of the Temperance Reform. 

Scripture Testimony Against In- 
toxicating Wine. By Rev. W m. 
Ritchie, of Scotland, . . $0 60 

An unanswerable refutation of the theory 
that the Scriptures favor the idea of the 
use of intoxicating wine as a beverage. It 
takes the different kinds of wines mentioned in 
the Scriptures, investigates their specific na- 
ture, and shows wherein they differ. 

Alcohol: Its Place and Power, by 
James Miller ; and The Pse and 
Abuse of Tobacco, by John Li- 
ZARS, $1 00 

Zoological Temperance Convention. 
By Rev. Edward Hitchcock, 
D.D., of Amherst College, $0 75 

This fable gives an interesting and entertain- 
ing account of a Convention of Animals held 
in Central Africa, and reports the speeches 
made on the occasion. 


Delavan’s Consideration of the Tem- 
perance Argument and History, 

$1 50 

This condensed and comprehensive work con- 
tains Essays and Selections from different au- 
thors, collected and edited by Edward C. De- 
LAVAN, Esq., and is one of the most valuable 
text-books on the subject of Temperance ever 
issued. 

Bible Rule of Temperance ; or. 
Total Abstinence from all Intox- 
icating Drinks. By Rev. George 
Duffield, D.D., . . . . $0 60 

This is the ablest and most reliable work 
which has been issued on the subject. The im- 
morality of the use, sale, aiifl manufacture of 
into^cating liquors as a beverage is considered 
in the light of the Scriptures, and the will and 
law of God clearly presented. 

Alcohol : Its Vature and Effects. 
By Charles A. Storey, M.D., 

$0 90 

This is a thoroughly scientific work, yet 
written in afresh, vigorous, and popular style, 
in language that the masses can understand. 
It consists of ten lectures carefully prepared, 
and is an entirely new work by one amply com- 
petent to present the subject. 

Four Pillars of Temperance. By 
John AV. Kirton, . . . $0 75 

The Four Pillars are. Reason, Science, Scrip- 
ture, and Experience. The book is argumenta- 
tive, historical, and statistical, and the facts, 
appeals, and arguments are presented in a most 
convincing and masterly manner. 

Communion Wine; or, Bible Tem- 
perance. By Rev. William M. 
Thayer. Paper, 20 cents ; cloth, 

$0 50 

An unanswerable argument against the use 
of intoxicating wine at Communion, and pre- 
senting the Bible argument in favor of total 
abstinence. 

Laws of Fermentation and Wines 
of the Ancients. i 2 ino, 129 pages. 
By Rev. Wm. Patton, D.D. 
Paper, 30 cts. ; cloth, . . $0 60 

It presents the whole matter of Bible Tem- 
perance and the wines of ancient times in a 
new, clear, and satisfactory manner, develop- 
ing the laws of fermentation, and giving a large 
number of references and statistics never before 
collected, showing conclusively the existence of 
unfermented wine in the olden time. 


6 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Text-Book of Temperance. By- 
Dr. F. R. Lees, . . . . $1 50 

We can also furnish the above book, which is 
divided into the following^ parts : 1. Temper- 
ance as a Virtue. 2. The Chemical History of 
Alcohol. 3 The Dietetics of Temperance. 4. 
The Pathology of Intemperance. 6. The Medi- 
cal Question. 6. Temperance in Relation to 
the Bible. 7. Historical. 8. The National 
Question and the Remedy. 9. The Philosophy 
of Temperance. 

Bugle ?fotes for the Temperance 
Army. Price, paper covers, 30 
cents ; boards,” $0 35 

A new collection of Songs, Quartets, and 
Glees, adapted to the use or all Temperance 


gatherings, Glee Clubs, etc., together with the 
Odes of the Sons of Temperance and Good 
Templars. 

Temperance* Chimes. Price, in 
paper covers, 30 cents, single 
copies ; $25 per hundred. Price, 
in board covers, 35 cents ; per 
hundred, $30 00 

A Temperance Hymn and Tune-Book of 128 
pages, comprising a gre.it variety of Glees, 
Songs, andHymns designed for the use ofTem- 
perance Meetings and Organizations, Bands, of 
Hope, Gleo Clubs, and the Home Circle. Many 
of the H ymns have been written expressly for 
this book by some of the best writers in the 
country. 


Pamphlets. 


John Swig. A Poem. By Edward 
Carswell. i 2 mo, 24 pages. Il- 
lustrated with eight characteristic 
engravings, printed on tinted 
paper, $0 15 

The Rum Fiend, and Other Poems. 

By William H. Burleigh. i 2 ino. 
46 pages. Illustrated with three 
wood engravings, designed by 
Edward Carswell. . . . $0 20 

Suppression of the Liquor Traffic. 
A Prize Essay, by Rev. H. D. 
Kitchell, President of Middle- 
bury College. i 2 mo, 48 pp., $0 10 


Bound and How; or, Alcohol as a 
Narcotic. By Charles Jewett, 
M D. i 2 mo, 24 pp., . . . $0 10 

Scriptural Claims of Total Abstin- 
ence. By Rev. Newman Hall. 
i 2 mo, 62 pp., ,$0 15 

Buy Your Own Cherries. By John 
W. Kirton. i 2 mo, 32 pp., $0 20 


National Temperance Almanac and 
Teetotaler’s Year BookYor 1873, 

$0 10 


Illustrated Temperance Alphabet, 

$0 25 


Twenty-four Page Pamphlets. (With Covers.) 

Five Cents each ; 60 Cents per Doz. 

Is Alcohol Food 2 By Dr. F. R. Lees. 

Physiological Action of Alcohol. • By Prof. Henry Munroe. 
Adulteration of Liquors. By Rev. ]. B. Dunn. 

Will the Coming Man Drink Wine? By James P.arton, Esq. 
History and Mystery of a Glass of Ale. By J. W. Kirton. 

Bible Teetotalism. By Rev. Peter Stryker. 

Medicinal Drinking. By Rev. John Kirk. 

Drinking Usages of Society. By Bishop Alonzo Potter. 

Fruits of the Liquor Traffic. By Sumner Stebbins, M.D. 

Is Alcohol a Necessary of Life 2 By Prof. Henry Munroe. 

A High Fence of 15 Bars. By the author of “ Lunarius.” 


Packet of Assorted Tracts, No. 1. Comprising Nos. 1 to 53 put ud in 

strong paper covers, making 250 pages, $0 25 

Packet of Assorted Tracts, No. 2 , Comprising 53 to 100, making 250’ 
pages, $0 25 


7 


The National Temperance Society s Books, 


Temperance Sermons. 

The National Temperance Society are publishing a series of Sermons upon rarious phases of 
the Temperance Question by some of the leading clergymen in America. The following are 
already published : 

1. Common Sense for Young Men. By Rev. H. W. Beecher, . $0 15 

2. Moral Duty of Total Abstinence. By Rev. T. L. Cuyler, . . 15 

3. The Evil Beast. By Rev, T. De Witt Talmage, ... 15 

4. The Good Samaritan. By Rev. J. B. Dunn, 15 

5. Self-Denial : A Duty and a Pleasure. By Rev. J. P. Newman, 

D.D., Chaplain ot the United States Senate, . . . .15 

6. The Church and Temperance. By John W. Mears, D.D., Pro- 

fessor of Hamilton College, New York, 15 

7. Active Pity of a (^ueen. By Rev. John Hall, D.D , . . . 15 

8. Temperance and the Pulpit. By Rev. C. D. Foss, D.D., . . 15 

9. The Evils of Intemperance. By Rev. J. Romeyn Berry, . . 15 

10. Liberty and Love. By Rev, Henry Ward Beecher, . . 15 

11. The Wine and the Word. By Rev. Herrick Johnson, . . 15 

12. Strange Children. By Rev. Peter Stryker, .... 15 

13. Impeachment and Punishment of Alcohol. Rev. C. H. Fooler, 15 

14. Drinking for Health. By Rev. H. C. Fish, .... 15 

15. Scientific Certainties (not Opinions) about Alcohol. By Rev. 

H. W. Warren, 15 

Example and Effort. An Address by Hon. Schuyler Colfax . 15 


The Total Abstainer’s Daily Witness and Bible Terdict. 75 Cents. 

Tliis is a series of Scripture Texts printed ou thirty-one large sheets, arranged so that one can 
be used for each day in the month. The size of each sheet is 19 by 12 inches, all fastened together 
with roller and cord, so as to be easily hung up in room, office, workshop, etc. ; and turning over 
a sheet day by day as desired. 

New Temperance Dialogues. 

The First Glass ; or. The Power of Woman’s Influence. 

The Young Teetotaler ; or. Saved at Last. 15 cents each. Per dozen, - - - - 50 

Reclaimed ; or. The Danger of Moderate Drinking. 10 cents. Per dozen, - - - 100 

Marry No Man if He Drinks ; or, Laura’s Plan, and How it Succeeded. 10 cts. Per doz., 1 00 
Which Will You Choose! 36 pages. By Miss M. D. Chellis. 15 cents. Per dozen, - - l 50 

Aunt Dinah’s Pledge. Dramatized from the Book, - -- -- -- - 15 

The Temperance Doctor. Dramatized from the Book, - -- -- -- 15 

Wine as a Medicine. 10 cents. Per dozen, ----------lOO 

The Stumbling-Block. 10 cents. Per dozen, - --------loO 

Tri.al and Condemnation of Judas Woemaker. 15 cents. Per dozen, - - - - 1 60 
Temperance Exercise, - 10 

Band of Hope Supplies. 

Band of Hope Manual. Per doz., $0 60 

Temperance Catechism. Per doz., 60 

Band of Hope Melodics. Paper, 10 

Band of Hope Badge. Enamelled, $1 25 per doz. ; 12 cents singly. 

Plain, $1 per dozen ; 10 cents singly. Silver and Enamelled, 

50 cents each. 

Juvenile Temperance Speaker, 25 

Illuminated Temperance Cards. Set of ten, 35 

Juvenile Temperance Pledges. Per hundred, 3 00 

Certificates of Membership. Per hundred, 8 00 

The Temperance Speaker, 75 

Sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price Address 

J. N. STEARNS, Publishing Agent, 

58 READE STREET, ITOW YORK. 


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